


Wild Things

by loyalbloggerwhoshoots



Series: Holding Onto Each Other After the War [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, M/M, Teenlock, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loyalbloggerwhoshoots/pseuds/loyalbloggerwhoshoots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John Watson and Greg Lestrade knew each other in Uni, acted on their feelings for each other, but lost out on what they could've had because of an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pizza and Beer

**Author's Note:**

> A rather long roleplay by myself and detectivegregorylestrade on Tumblr, covering a long timespan.

Greg was in the sitting room with his feet up on the coffee table with a drink in his hand. This was a usual occurrence for a Saturday night especially when spending his Saturday night with his best mate John Watson. Granted John was not quite as sociable as he was so it made sense, but Greg didn’t mind. He enjoyed his nights in with John.

“John~,” he bellowed. “Have you rang in for pizza yet?”

John had gotten out of the shower a few minutes ago judging by the fact he had heard the shower turn off. He took a drink of his beer before setting it down on the coffee table and heading down the hall toward John’s bedroom. The two had been sharing the two bedroom London flat since John graduated college a year before. Granted Greg had been in uni for a few years by then and was more than exuberant to move out of his old flat. Greg was six years older than John, but still they couldn’t have been closer. He pounded on John’s door with his fist. 

“Mate, open up yeah?”

John was indeed done in the shower, but not with the bathroom.”Greg, I’ve been in the shower. You’ve got the phone with you, why don’t you ring in?” He yelled back to him. Greg was his closest mate, despite the age difference. They disagreed on a lot of things, mainly John’s desire to go into the military after medical school. Greg thought he was too good to be wasted in medical school, much less the military.

“Door’s open,” he called to him, wrapping a towel around himself and coming out to the bedroom to get dressed.

Greg rolled his eyes and opened the door just as John walked out of the bathroom. He walked over to John’s bed and plopped down.

“Yea, well I don’t know the number. I thought you had it in your mobile,” he said boredly watching as John walked over to the wardrobe to get clothes.

His eyes followed John’s every movement in an idle fashion as he waited for a reply.

John walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a clean pair of shorts. He dropped the towel and tugged them on, before leaning over to his nightstand and grabbing his mobile. He tossed it at Greg. “Here, go ahead and dial them.” He continued to get dressed, throwing on a pair of jeans. It wasn’t unusual for Greg to watch him get dressed. They’d known each other for long enough that John had stopped caring. He wasn’t really into guys. They were nice enough, but Greg was special, and he didn’t really care anymore. That’s why he liked having him as a flatmate. He didn’t care if John brought a girl or a guy home. Girls being more often. Guys usually only when John was really really piss drunk.  
Greg huffed and grabbed John’s phone scrolling through till he found the correct contact. He hit talk and placed the order for two large pizzas. The boys could generally eat one pizza each and it was their tradition of sorts to always get two even if they weren’t feeling as hungry as usual. Tonight was one of those nights where Greg wanted to drink more than he wanted to eat, but ordered their traditional anyhow.

His eyes ran over John’s stomach for a moment idly as he was pulling the jumper over his head, but the moment he noticed himself doing it he looked away. Greg considered himself completely straight.

“Come on,” he said rolling off the bed. “It’s your pick on films this week.”

John grinned, listening to Greg order. “Hmmm…. you seem to be more in a drinking mood tonight, Greg. But I appreciate you ordering.” He pulls his jumper on over his head. He noticed Greg looking and tried not to smirk. Even at 18, he was in military shape, having been taught from an early age the importance of your health. So, at 18, he was lean, and muscular, and tan, even living in London. His healthy living and high metabolism were things that frustrated most girls and even Greg on occasion, but he enjoyed it. It was something his father had taught him.

“Hmm. Well, what do we have? Anything new? If not, I’m going to choose an action flick. Maybe…” he picked up a DVD case. “Dark Knight anyone?”

Greg flopped down onto the sofa and relaxed again with his drink in hand.

“I will watch whatever you’re in the mood for,” he said.

He waited patiently as John inserted the movie into the DVD player. While he waited he pulled out his pack of cigarettes from the drawer in the side table.

“I know you hate them,” he muttered as a feeble apology.

He didn’t know why he was feeling so stressed, but John’s closeness was making his muscles tense. 

“Good. S’not like you’d have a choice,” John grinned at him. The movie started, and John plopped down next to Greg, taking his fag from him. “If you know I don’t like them, why do you smoke them?” he asked, and then handed it back to him, rolling his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, Greg, or I’d put it out.”

John looked at him subtly, trying to divine what was antagonising him. He seemed off, but he couldn’t find the right words to ask him what was wrong.

Greg noticed John staring at him and kicked him in the arm lightly. 

“Oi, something bothering you mate?” he asked chuckling.

He took a rather long drag of his smoke before turning away as he exhaled to be sure it didn’t go near John. Second hand smoke wasn’t as bad of course, but still he knew John didn’t want to inhale more of it than he had to. Greg finished off his beer and flicked the ash off his cigarette before leaning back into the sofa to get comfortable. He waited until John sat down properly and looked as if he was comfortable before putting his feet on his friend’s lap. It wasn’t something he always did but it wasn’t completely foreign.

John blushed a little. Greg had noticed him staring. He turned his focus back to the screen. Christian Bale was being a badass on the screen and it distracted him for a while, trying to ignore the smoke.

“Nothing. What’s wrong with you?” he said, in an attempt to turn the topic of conversation away from himself.

Then Greg put his feet in John’s lap and John realized that he liked Greg. He tried to think back to when it started. Maybe it was just the beer he was currently nursing, maybe it was the boredom, maybe it was the pressure of his feet on him. He shook his head. Greg was straight, straighter than a lot of guys he knew. John considered himself bi, but mostly, he tried to stay away from guys. But at this moment, John wanted nothing more than to kiss his best friend. He shoved that idea out of his head, and at that moment the pizza got there, and John jumped up to get it.

Greg huffed as his feet fell off of John’s lap. He pouted. John could have at least given him time to move his feet before he bounded up to get to door. 

“Gee, bit hungry?” he grumbled. When John returned, he arched his eyebrow. “It was my turn to pay for the food.”

It was more of a statement than a request or a complaint. Supposedly it was pointless since it was too late, but Greg was never really okay with people paying for things when he ought to. He rolled his eyes and waited for John to take the seat next to him again.

“Hand me a piece yeah?” he asked as he put his feet back up onto John’s lap and stubbed out his cigarette.

Smoking and eating never worked out well. Either you ended up burning yourself or your food just tasted like smoke and neither was appealing.

“Yea, well, consider it a favour. I’ll collect later,” John grinned, bringing the pizza over and tossing it on the table in front of them.He knew Greg didn’t like him paying when it wasn’t his turn, but John had had to move, or he might’ve done something he’d’ve regretted.

“Here, you go, you lasy arse,” John said, handing him a large piece, and trying not to groan when he put his feet back in his lap. “Did you want a massage, your Highness?” John asked sarcastically.

“You never answered my question, you know.”

“Thanks mate.”

Greg chuckled and took the piece of pizza from John’s hand. He bit into it and grinned at John’s sarcastic comment.

“Why would you like to give me one?” He winked melodramatically at his friend and wriggled his feet around in John’s lap teasingly.

There was a pause after that where Greg sat snickering and eating his pizza enjoying the expression on John’s face. He almost looked uncomfortable with Greg’s feet being in his lap and he wondered if he was just imagining it.

“I don’t know what question you would be talking about.”

“You’re welcome, mate.”

“I would if you asked,” John muttered. “Only if you paid me,” he said louder, and poked Greg’s feet, where he knew he was ticklish, holding his beer out of foot’s reach.

John ate two slices of pizza in silence, watching the antics of the Joker on the screen. “Oh shove it where the sun don’t shine,” John said when he grew tired of Greg’s sniggering. “And I asked you what was bugging you so much. You seemed pensive earlier.”

Greg curled up a little bit pulling his torso to his knees and therefore scooting himself closer to John and allowing his head to rest on the pillow.   
“No nothing happened just a bit tired,” he said glancing up at John.  
He watched the movie with slight disinterest not really seeing the moving pictures on the screen. A few minutes later he noticed John was rubbing his foot a bit and it felt good. Greg near purred in pleasure. He’d been dating a girl who hated to do the little things like that and he found himself extremely content with the feeling.   
“Mmm feels really good,” he muttered and took a drink of beer.  
John tried not to react to Greg’s moving closer.

“I still don’t believe you,” John said, but he dropped it afterwards. If Greg didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t talk.

With Greg’s purr of happiness, a shot of heat went to John’s groin, and he fought not to show it physically, but subtly moved his feet further away from his groin area, to be safe. He didn’t need Greg laughing at him, especially for this. It would be extremely awkward. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said quietly, taking a long swig of his beer, and finishing it, he quickly opened another.  
“Bit sore yeah, been doing bootcamp to get in shape,” he said in a cocky tone as he lifted his shirt to show his recently formed abs. “Took a few days off and then got back into it this morning.”  
He snuggled up closer to John and listened to him.  
Greg laughed. “I never said she was looking to settle down,” he said. “Really you just need a good lay.”  
He winked and took another drink.  
John stopped himself from staring. That was going to get them nowhere fast. “Well, it looks like it’s been working. Maybe one day instead of just moving to videos, you’ll get off your arse and join up with me,” he smirked. Greg in the military. Never going to happen. Frankly, John couldn’t see Greg having anything to do with the law.

“I know, but the last two girls you hooked me up with were prime for the nuthouse. Honestly, Greg I wonder whether you have taste at all,” he laughed.

“Are you volunteering? Cause if you get any closer, I’m going to have to ask for your credit card. Most people have to pay to get that close to me,” he joked, sliding a hand up his leg, teasing him. He knew Greg was straight, and sometimes, like tonight, John felt inclined to mess with him. He deserved it though, for getting him into the state he was in.

Greg laughed throatily and clutched his stomach. 

“Taste? Why’d you need taste? At this point in my life I could care less for the girl’s personality and what not as long as she’s DTF everything’s good. Besides…golden rule never take the same girl out twice with two months,” he said tapping his nose and winking.

Greg was still chuckling at John’s comment when he felt John’s hand on his thigh. It was strange to hand to stop himself from quivering or emitting a sound at the contact. He could feel a bit of heat rush to his crotch in reaction and he nearly reached out to smack it down, but restrained himself. John wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t even a semi just a strange wave of heat…one that cause shivers to run down his spine.

“Dunno John, d’you want me to?” he joked back after a moment to compose himself.

John grinned. “See? Not a chance.”

“Taste, when it comes to me. I at least care about someone’s sanity before I shag them. Course, this does explain some of the girls you’ve brought home. Sometimes I shudder to think what goes on in your head,” he commented, grinning at him.

John did notice the shiver that went through him. Odd. Greg doesn’t usually respond like that. Maybe he’s had one too many to drink, he thought to himself. “I asked you first,” he said, quietly, with a twinkle in his eye. “You’d be the customer.” Try to keep a straight face. Stay calm, jovial, joking. He can’t know you’re serious.

Greg punched him in the arm, lighter than usual, and rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry mate,” he spoke sarcastically his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. “I’d never pay for someone to shag me. It’s no fun if they don’t actually want to shag you.”

He leaned over to set his beer on the coffee table and grab another slice of pizza from the box. Despite the fact he was ignoring it his body was exceptionally aware of where John was all of a sudden.

John grit his teeth to keep his smile light. He couldn’t let Greg know how he felt, what that tongue did to him. It wasn’t allowed. Then Greg leaned in to get his pizza and John had to take a moment to compose himself.

“So what if I did? Would it make a difference in my fee?” John asked, trying to keep his tone light.  
Greg bit into his pizza and took the moment as an excuse to not reply straight away and to think a moment before he spoke. He regarded John with a vague interest. Why would John want to shag him? They were best mates and John knew how awful he could be to people. Greg swallowed and set the pizza down.

“John what exactly are you trying to say?”

Greg paused before he answered. Bad sign. John couldn’t take back the words now. But he was painfully aware of the tension between the two of them, and he needed to do something about it before he exploded.

“I was asking if you were volunteering to be my shag. And you know I don’t care about gender. So, I was just putting that out there.” John couldn’t figure out a better way to say that. Then he put his drink down and moved Greg’s feet. “I think I’m done. Sorry for bugging you,” he said, and got up to go to his room.

Greg stared blank faced at the spot John had been in a moment ago and listened to him walk down the hall to his room. He paused for a moment. Never in his entire time of knowing John had he really thought about ever having sex with him. In fact Greg was sure he had never thought about sex with any man before, but there had been a moment earlier when John had touched his leg. He remembered the heated feeling that had shot to his groin.

Greg got up off the sofa, set down his, beer and started down the hall to John’s room. He’d heard the door close, but not lock so he simply opened it and leaned in the doorframe.

John was leaning over the sink in his bathroom. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing… coming onto Greg? His best mate, his friend, his flatmate, who was very much straight. He must’ve been imagining things, or had too much to drink or something. He thought about having a wank, but decided he would just take a cold shower instead. Maybe go out in a little while and finish the movie. He’d just walked out of the bathroom taking his jumper off, when he saw Greg at his door.

“Come to mock me?” he said sarcastically.

Greg frowned.

“I wouldn’t do that you know,” he said. “Mock you I mean.”

He said pushing off the door frame to enter the room properly. For a moment he stopped just inside the door not sure if John would want to punch him or not, but pressed on and walked over to the bed. He patted the spot next to him. Greg hoped John would talk to him about things at least, but still he didn’t know how initiate the conversation.

John watched him hestitate and then walk into his bedroom and sit down on his bed. He stood still for a moment longer and then joined him on the bed. “Why wouldn’t you? I’ve made a right git of myself.” He didn’t care that he was shirtless, but then after another moment of silence, he thought better of it and went to put his jumper back on.

Greg frowned at John’s words and watched his walked back over to grab his jumper and slid it back over his head. He stood up and walked over to John. They had been best friends for too long to not to at least try understanding each other.   
“John, don’t say things like that,” he said. “You’re my best mate and you can’t do anything to get rid of me.”  
He gave John a lopsided smile trying to reassure his friend that he wasn’t going to leave.

John couldn’t look at him for a moment. Then he made a split second decision, and looked up at Greg, and pulled him roughly to him and kissed him hard on the mouth. You so sure I can’t get rid of you? he thought as he did it, wondering why he had done it.

Greg stumbled from the force of the kiss. His eyes went wide as his mind tried to wrap itself around what was happening. He could feel John’s hands on his back holding him up so he didn’t fall to the floor and collapse. Everything felt frozen and he didn’t know what to do. He could feel John’s lips against his begging for a response, but he’d never kissed a bloke before and could feel his face burning with embarrassment. What was likely the strangest part was he was enjoying it. Well his mind was telling him he wasn’t but he couldn’t deny the heat of attraction sweeping through his veins. He opened his mouth slightly and a soft involuntary moan slipped past his lips. His hands came to rest idly on John’s back seeing as he had no idea what he should be doing with them.

John didn’t expect any kind of response. He’d expected Greg to shove him away, or punch him, or something. But then he moaned. And it wasn’t a bad moan. It almost sounded like he was enjoying it. He pulled him closer, teasing at his lips, and nipping his bottom lip gently between his teeth. He kissed him until he had to breathe, alternating between rough kisses and gentle kissing that explored his mouth languidly.

Finally he pulled away. “You sure you don’t want to get rid of me?”

When John released him Greg was panting slightly and took a step back until his calf hit the bed and then fell back onto it. His eyes fell closed as he processed for a moment. He knew John had spoken to him but it just wasn’t clicking quite right. The words almost sounded like a foreign language. He took a minute to just breathe and star up at the ceiling though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should have at least in formed John he needed a moment. There just simply hadn’t been enough of his brain that was working to come up with the words.

Finally he sighed and shifted so he could see John again who seemed to have just been standing there the whole time. He cleared his throat.

“Er what was that all about,” he asked trying to keep himself looking netural.

He didn’t want John to panic.

John watched him carefully. Greg didn’t look like he was coherent for a moment, and John worried that he’d really screwed things over this time. John stepped back from him, giving him space. It was the very least he could do, after assaulting him like that. He watched him until he finally spoke, asking what had just happened.

“I didn’t know what to say, so I thought I ought to show you,” he said awkwardly. “But I supposed I’ve fucked that up as well. I don’t know what I was thinking,” John watched him carefully, trying to figure out what he would do next.

Greg nodded slowly taking in the information and filing it away. He thought for a minute. His best mate had just snogged him. Not just snogged him, but bloody well snogged him to the point he had been breathless. Greg couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed senseless and with that realization he emitted a soft purr like sound.

“So you fancy me…?” he inquired. “For how long?”

He pulled himself up into a sitting position lazily inspecting John. He looked rather embarrassed which Greg found a tad humorous. It wasn’t like he was angry or anything…he didn’t think he was. Just confused. Yes, very confused.

John watched him, still readying himself for a punch that might land at anytime. Then he noticed the odd look of satisfaction on Greg’s face. And he purred. It really was odd.

“I… I don’t know. I guess. Well, a while probably. Never wanted to act on it though. Those it might fuck things up between us. And you’re straight. Didn’t want to .. I dunno, make things awkward.”

Greg’s lazy stare wasn’t helping John’s fear. He was probably more confused than Greg at this point. He felt like Greg was sizing him up, which both thrilled him and scared the shit out of him.

He chuckled.

“It’s funny you know -not that you fancy me- there was this girl one of the marginally normal ones and for quite sometime she was completely convinced I was cheating on her with you. Said your friendship was too close to be a bromance,” he said an amused grin on his lips. 

Greg didn’t know what else to do or say. Of course he had probably failed at lightening the situation and had probably only made John that much more embarrassed. He couldn’t help but enjoy the blush that was still burning across John’s cheeks.

Greg laughed, and John’s blush grew. He was laughing at him. And then John listened to what he had to say.

“Really?” he asked, genuinely bemused. He thought back. He’d never tried to do anything about this before. Did he really give off that impression?

He tried out a smile. It seemed to work. “So you… you don’t mind?”

Greg smiled. 

“John, I did say you weren’t going to frighten me off didn’t I? We’ve been mates for along time and I care about you. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt your feelings purposely,” he said. “You may have to show me though…you know how it works.”

He didn’t really know why he was doing it, all he was certain of was that he was suddenly intrigued by it all. John fancied him. That was new…and frankly quite flattering. And the impression he got from the kiss led him to believe he knew fairly well what he was doing in that department as well. It wasn’t like he was gay. It was just John. Just John, he told himself.

Greg got to his feet and squeezed John’s shoulder a bit awkwardly although he was sure it was only awkward to him.

Greg was… offering to let John kiss him? Or shag him or…. John flushed. Greg walked over to him, and squeezed his shoulder. John attempted another smile.

“Okay,” he said quietly. And this time, when he kissed him, he was gentle. He wanted to do this the right way, and not scare him off, because although he said John couldn’t scare him off, John was having a hard time believing him. He took his time, kisisng him surely, guiding his hand up to John’s neck to pull him closer. He wrapped an arm around Greg’s waist, to pull him in tighter, kissing him all the while, and then he trailed a line of sweet breathless kisses down Greg’s jawline and neck, and then kissed him just under his ear, before nipping gently.

Greg held still as John leaned in though he felt unsure of what he was supposed to do he let himself be kissed. It wasn’t like before. It was slower the kind of kiss you shared with a lover. The thought made him swallow nervously. He’d never been in love. In his mind there was a rather large margin of difference between a shag and making love. Then again he didn’t know if that’s where this was going to lead.

He let his hand be placed at John’s neck and as John moved his hand away he gripped tighter. His thumb brushed lightly over the sensitive skin of his neck. Then all of a sudden John was kissing his neck and jaw and god he shouldn’t be able to do that. Involuntarily Greg felt his back arching and his hips being pressed to John’s as a low guttural sound escaped his lips.

Greg was stiff as a board, and John panicked, but continued what he was doing. He’d hoped he would’ve loosened up a bit, but maybe he wasn’t into this. He swallowed, and John realized he was just nervous. Nervous he could take. He was nervous as well.

Greg rubbed his neck and John smiled. He was trying at least. And then John had nipped Greg’s neck, and he’d shuddered and pressed into him and John suppressed a moan. Now he knew Greg was interested. He could feel the man hardening as he pressed into him. Greg groaned, and John smiled and came back up to kiss him hard on the mouth. “Is this okay?” he said, coming up for air.

Greg was shaking slightly. He didn’t understand what he was feeling. It’s different to be okay with homosexuality then to actually be participating in a homosexual act. His body was doing things he never recalled ever happening when related to other males. He was slightly frightened by it, but when John whispered huskily to him all he could do as a response was roll his hips. It was as if his lips were simply unwilling to form any intelligible words.

John bit back a moan when Greg rubbed up against him. “Just… tell me if it gets to be too much,” he said, before he placed a searing kiss on Greg’s mouth, and ran his hands up the back of Greg’s shirt, tracing the muscles there, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His fingers gripped the only part of John he could reach properly -his shoulders. Greg wasn’t sure how he should be processing the pleasure that wracked his body and burned his insides.   
“I just- teach me,” he groaned softly his forehead falling against John’s shoulder.   
He paused for a moment to breathe as John continued to run his hands over Greg’s back. Without thinking he detached himself from Jogn and swiftly tugged the shirt over his head now standing bare chested in front of his best mate. He felt oddly exposed. His chest was heaving slightly with laboured breath and his skin was flush.

A spike of pleasure raced through John at Greg’s words, and when he pulled away John was startled, but then Greg was shirtless. John eagerly pulled off his own jumper again, and threw it to the floor, and stared openly at his best friend, taking him all in. He wasn’t built, but he was muscular, and John could see two scars, that he’d no idea where Greg had gotten them. Then he came back and kissed Greg again, hard, on the mouth and tugged him closer to him with his belt loops, and ran a hand through his hair, tipping his head back and pressing little bites and kisses down his neck and collarbone.

Greg’s breathing was ragged and he had to suppress the moan that bubbled up in his throat as John started attacking his neck again. Carefully he took a step back, taking John with him, and then a few more until he could feel the bed behind his calf. Then he slowly let himself fall onto it pulling John down on top of him. An audible huff escaped his lips as the weight of his best mate pressed down on him, particularly on his crotch causing him to moan softly and roll his hips up to meet John’s.

John walked with Greg, and fell with him onto the bed, and he grinned, and then bit back a moan as their lower halves came into sharp contact, and Greg purposefully rolled his hips to meet John’s. He didn’t want to fuck him -well, he did but not the first time. He didn’t want it to be too much for Greg. He wanted to teach him. He loved Greg, whether as best mates or as lovers it didn’t matter right now. He let a hand trailed down to his waist, and tugged at his waistband, still kissing him all the while, and then he brushed him through his trousers.

“Oh god,” he whimpered.

Greg was squirming as John’s hand brushed against him through his trousers. His nails dug into his mate’s exposed back and he clung to him needily. He wanted to do the same for John, but the thought of it frightened him somewhat. In a way it would really solidify what had transpired between them already and he didn’t know how to deal with that. So he simply held on and panted pressing a kiss to John’s cheek.

Greg was enjoying it, but he was also very nervous, and John didn’t like seeing him like that. He moved his hand away from his groin area, and just focused on holding him by his waist, and laving kisses over his neck and collarbone, possessive, but gentle. He moved lower and licked one of his nipples, and then blew on it, till it was raised and tight, and then he did the same to his other nipple, loving the sounds Greg was making. He came back up for a searing kiss.

Greg gasped, he didn’t even know his body could do that, nobody had ever done that sort of thing to him before. He closed his eyes and sighed taking a moment to breathe before he felt John’s lips on his again. The kisses were growing more heated to the point where the heat in his abdomen felt like it was going to boil him to death. He relaxed his grip on John’s back so he didn’t draw any blood and smoothly ran his fingers over the indentations as he continued to kiss him. Idly he entertained the thought of perhaps rolling them over so he was on top but he didn’t know if it was different to be on top with a bloke as opposed to with a girl. He bit John’s lip and moved slightly to rub their erections together through their trousers. It all felt so good.

The pain from Greg digging into his back vanished and John smiled slightly, then he started to trace the marks he’d made, and John hissed. More pain, but it was pleasurable pain. “Tell me what you want,” John said, breathily into Greg’s mouth, rubbing back against him. “Whatever you want, just tell me.”

Greg stared at him. He didn’t know. Not at all. He wanted to say he wanted John, but at the same time he didn’t know if that was what he wanted. All his life he had been straight as a rail and there he was on the verge of shagging his best mate. His gut tightened and he groaned in response to John’s movements.

“I- John-,” he stuttered. “I don’t know…it’s.”

He moaned softly.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Of course he didn’t know. John knew that. Greg was, or at least had been, straight as an arrow. Shagging his best mate wasn’t going to make him an expert in anything. John smiled down at him. “It’s okay. Just.. tell me if it’s too much.” John stroked his face, and kissed him, and then he trailed a hand down to his waist and over the front of his trousers, to the fastenings of Greg’s trousers, which he slowly undid, and slipped a hand into his shorts to brush Greg’s erection. He kissed his cheek and then his jawline, and kissed his way down his neck to kiss the area between his neck and shoulder.

Of course he didn’t know. John knew that. Greg was, or at least had been, straight as an arrow. Shagging his best mate wasn’t going to make him an expert in anything. John smiled down at him. “It’s okay. Just.. tell me if it’s too much.” John stroked his face, and kissed him, and then he trailed a hand down to his waist and over the front of his trousers, to the fastenings of Greg’s trousers, which he slowly undid, and slipped a hand into his shorts to brush Greg’s erection. He kissed his cheek and then his jawline, and kissed his way down his neck to kiss the area between his neck and shoulder.

Greg nodded and bit his lip watching tentatively as John caressed his cheek causing him to flush with embarrassment. Suddenly he felt like he was fifteen again. As John’s hand moved slowly over his chest it left a trail of goose flesh behind until he reached his trousers. He gave an intake of breath sharply as John started to undo his trousers which turned into a soft pant of anticipation. And then the zip was undone and he didn’t have to look to know what John was doing, but he still just about came undone as the warm flesh of John’s hand brushed his erection. Vaguely he realized John’s lips were also on his neck somewhere, but he couldn’t really concentrate his mind on either feeling the pleausre was overwhelming. 

John smiled against his neck, and hummed a little. He kissed his neck gently, and began to stroke Greg’s erection, and then he began to pump him slowly, languishing kisses on his neck and collarbone. He rutted against his thigh, just a little, and in the same rhythm, he pulled at Greg’s cock, top to bottom, long strokes, and then he grazed his balls, and continued to stroke him.

His breathing was erratic and he didn’t even know what to do with himself. John’s hand stroking him combined with the sensation of the other’s erection against his thigh drove him wild. Greg’s hips thrusted involuntarily against John’s grip. He was shaking wildly. Something about all of it was driving him to the edge so much faster than he was ever used to. Usually Greg’s stamina outlasted his partner’s, but he could feel the orgasm building. He tried to hold it back to make it last longer. Just when he thought he had a grip on himself he tripped up and was sent over. His hips slammed up for a second as he came cursing and panting.

Greg melted into the bed in a puddle. He only vaguely registered John’s question and managed to nod his head in response. His fingers twitched slightly as he went to take John’s hand and intertwine their fingers. Slowly he rolled onto his side taking John with him so they were on their sides facing each other. His eyes were a bit heavy, but he didn’t want to let them close.

“Wow,” he muttered.

John watched him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He seemed to have enjoyed it. He entwined his fingers with Greg’s and lay down next to him. He bit back a chuckle. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Everything felt like it took far too much effort especially moving. He let his eyes slide closed.

“I’m not sleeping, just need a minute,” he said before John could even ask.

He knew John must still be terribly frustrated but wasn’t sure if he was supposed to return the favour. What was the social etiquette for a situation like this anyway?

John had just been about to ask him, but then Greg answered him. He bit back a grin, and lay back, content to just watch him breathe. After a little while, John squeezed his hand just slightly. “Don’t… don’t feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s a lot. I know,” John murmured quietly.

He swallowed, but didn’t open his eyes. Greg was still processing. A small contented smile touched his lips.

“Okay,” he muttered.

Not long after that Greg allowed himself to snuggle up to John properly and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.


	2. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg plays footie, but what happened last night is not far from either of their minds.

John woke up before Greg did the next morning. His mind was fuzzy, and then he remembered what had happened. He smiled at his best mate, and slowly edged out from under him, letting him sleep. He took a cold shower, to wake him up, and get rid of his morning wood, and then pulled on a pair of trousers and no shirt, and padded into the kitchen. It was Saturday, so neither of them had much going on. John had a study session scheduled for later, but he wasn’t too worried about it. He flicked the coffee maker on, and then started to make some breakfast. As he cooked, he thought about the previous night. What did Greg think? Would he hate him? Like him? He was confused, but he didn’t want to consider the negatives. Not yet. He heard Greg stirring and smiled to himself.

Greg sat straight up all of a sudden and looked around bleary eyed trying to focus and understand why he wasn’t in his bed. He had the strangest dream about….he was in John’s room. Oh, he thought. It hadn’t been a dream. His heart was racing just at this thought. So he actually had been given a hand job by his best mate. A bright flush coloured his cheeks as he thought about it.

He could smell coffee from down the hall and swallowed audibly. Time to face the music. This would be awkward he thought. Greg slid off the bed and his feet hit the chilled ground sending a shiver down his spine. Shirt.

“Where’s my shirt?” he muttered looking around the room.

He pulled his sleeping trousers back on and moved a few articles of clothing until he found his shirt. Reluctantly he pulled it over his hear to conceal his chest which he had realized had a number of love bites and then headed into the kitchen.

“I hope you’ve made 2 cups of coffee,” he said as if nothing had happened.

John smiled, not turning around at the pad of Greg’s feet in the hall. “Good morning. Sleep well?” he asked, pouring two cups of coffee. He was tempted to make Greg’s, but he figured he’d let Greg keep a little of his dignity. He turned and handed his cup to him. “Of course. I don’t like it the way you make it. Too much sugar.” He wrinkled his nose and went back to scrambling the eggs.

Greg rolled his eyes.

“I hardly have any sugar,” he said.

He went over to make himself a cup of coffee and serve himself a plate of eggs. After doing so he went over to the table and sat down across from him. He started to eat slowly unsure of what he should say to John.

“You have enough that I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me,” John said with a grin.

He made himself some toast with jam, and took his plate of food and sat down. “So, any plans for today?” John asked conversationally. He wasn’t going to bring up what had happened between them, unless Greg wanted to talk about it. Given the look on his face, he was trying to figure out what to say.

Greg shrugged. 

“Dunno, was going to go play footie with a few mates in the park. You’re welcome to join us,” he said coolly.

Greg’s other friends were all much closer to him in age that John was and they had a tendency to not like him much. He never really got why but had a feeling it was to do with the fact most of them were rather large homophobes and the others didn’t care to say anything. Then again Greg had never really said anything about it either.

Football held no fascination for John. It held even less interest for John when Greg hung out with that particular group of mates. He knew what they thought of him. He didn’t it bother him though, he just didn’t particularly enjoy that particular group of guys.

“Nah, I’ve got a study group later this afternoon. Mike and Bethany wanted to go over the notes before the exam on Tuesday.” John gave him a small smile.

Apparently, Greg didn’t want to talk about it. John resolved that right after the study group, he’d go out and find someone else at a pub.

“Oh, erm alright,” he muttered arching his eyebrow.

Sure hadn’t expected John to want to come but still it bothered him a bit.  
\-----  
After footie with his mates he came back to the flat to wash up. He noticed John was not around which again bothered him for some reason, but he put it out of his mind. Greg intended to go out drinking with his other mates and try to put John out of his mind. The whole thing was messing with his head and it was starting to distract him.

John’s study session had gone well, and he and his two study partners felt far more prepared for the exam on Tuesday. Instead of going home to the flat, he just went straight to the pub. It was one he didn’t usually go to. He was tired of the same faces, and wanted to get piss drunk and not have to deal with drama. He walked to a different area of London, and found a hole in the wall pub and took a seat at the counter. “4 of gin and a pint, please,” he asked the bartender, then turned on his seat, and surveyed the pub, looking for a likely shag.

Greg met up with his mates at what had recently become their usual hang out after footie. The pub was smokey and Greg didn’t feel he had to stop himself from smoking, like he sometimes did when he was with John, seeing as most of his mates did as well. They were at a table somewhat near the bar playing a rather boisterous game of cards and just generally dossing about as they drank. He was dying for a shag. Anything to get John out of his mind.

“Look at that bird!” his mate Jonny said.

Greg glanced at the girl in question. She was slim, blonde, fake tanned, and obviously wore too much make-up. Never had been his type.

“Go for it mate,” Greg chuckled.

Jonny never had a steady girlfriend and always went for that sort…then again Greg had never had a steady girlfriend. He just tried to tell himself it was because he was too young to settle down. He was drinking his beer and eyeing the woman working at the bar when Mark got his attention.

“Since you’re so hot on the barmaid, why don’t you get me a beer yeah?” he asked.

Mark was the lazy one and always played goal.

“Just this once ya hear?” he called back to Mark as he headed up to the bar.

John watched the people in the bar, gin in hand. He tried to figure out who they all were. He had identified a few students and a group of asshole sport types when he saw Greg. Fuck, he thought, and turned back around to face the bartender.

“Whatever he gets, it’s on me, you hear?” he said, cocking his head in Greg’s general direction, and then turned away, getting up and walking away to a smokey corner to watch him. Now that he knew Greg was here, he couldn’t help it. He knew he wouldn’t meet anyone tonight. Double fuck. Maybe I should just go.

As he made his way up to the bar he saw someone scampering away. He rolled his eyes probably some puss.

“Hey,” he said smirking at the barmaid. “Can I get two beers?”

She gave him a rather nice but bored smile.

“Sure,” she said and went to get them.

When she returned Greg went to hand her his money but she shook her head.

“Some nice looking blonde lad said whatever you got was on him,” she said with a shrug. “He went that way.”

Her hand gestured was vague and he furrowed his brow scanning the room. His heart stopped when he saw John sitting in the corner. Greg sighed and took a long drag of his smoke before putting it out and heading over to him both beers still in hand.

“I didn’t know you came here…not really your kind of place,”he said sitting down across from him.

Damnit. I should’ve told her not to tell him, he thought to himself, watching the buxom barmaid and Greg interact. Then she pointed over in his general direction, and John winced and watched Greg walk over to him.

“I don’t usually. Needed a change of pace.” John said quietly, taking a drink of his beer. “I wouldn’t’ve come if I’d known you came here with your mates.”

Greg set the beer down in front of John as a bit of a peace offering. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Was John really trying that hard to avoid him? What had happened must have put him off then? Perhaps he was just not as good with guys? The thoughts were swimming in his mind as he listened to John speak.

“Yeah, well I’m not with them now am I…,” he muttered. “It’s not like they’re bloody well attached to me or anything.”

He knew he sounded annoyed and in truth he was a little bit, but he couldn’t decide if it was John or himself he was annoyed with.

John set his empty beer down and took the one Greg had given him. He looked pensive. John realized he thought that John was mad at him. Jesus. Good job Watson, you’ve fucked up again, John thought to himself.

“I’m glad you aren’t. They’re right pricks, they are,” he said shortly. “Sorry,” he said, looking away. “They’re your mates. I should be nicer to them.”

“I should go. I … you should go hang out with them, I’m sorry,” John said, brushing my him on his way to get away. If he was going to break down he didn’t want to do it here.

Greg grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back.   
“What are you playing at?” he snapped and then dropped his tone. “Yesterday…yesterday you tell me you fancy me and then all of that and now you’re not even looking me in the bloody eye. I know you’re not a fan of my mates and I get that. I know they’re pricks. I’m a prick a lot of the time too John. What do you want from me? I don’t understand!”  
John watched him as he spoke, a tear pricking at his eyes. “I’m not playing at anything,” he said, taking his arm from Greg’s grip. “I just… I meant it all, and then you didn’t say anything this morning,” he said, swallowing back and trying to control himself, to keep himself from kissing Greg right then and there.

“You’re a prick, but you don’t hate what I am. What I’ve done… You accept me,” said John softly, looking Greg in the eye. “You’re my best mate. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined that. I do care about you, beyond all that.” He gave him a small half-smile. He understood that Greg was pissed at him, he really did. He just wished he knew what to do about it.

Greg stated at him. 

“What the hell was I suppose to say!? ‘oh hey mate morning? D’you wanna shag’? I don’t even know what the hell happened last night! Its the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life and I don’t know what the hell in suppose to do about or with it! I’m straight. Always have been. And then.”He shook his head.”My body just- never in my life has any of that ever…with a bloke and then- then you! And I just-? What the hell is going on. I don’t know. Is that what you wanted me to say to you when I walked you of your bedroom this morning?” 

It was kind of harsh but suddenly it had felt like there was just no filter on his lips and everything had just spilled out without restraint. Now he knew. John knew what had been going through his kind and he was likely to be very hurt by it. Just because he was upset and distraught didn’t make him care any less for John’s feelings.

John listened to his outburst, and understood every word. He swallowed again, and went to take Greg’s hand, and then backed off again, looking over at his mates.He gave a meaningful look in Greg’s direction.

“Listen, I understand, alright? I didn’t mean to jump you last night, I swear. And then… Jesus, Greg, I didn’t…..” He took a breath. “Can we go? I .. I just don’t want to cause a scene here. I do want to talk about this, but… just not here.”

Greg breathed heavily and attempted to catch his breath. He looked at John. The man looked upset. He had every right to be, just as much right as Greg did. 

“Lead the way soldier,” he muttered.  
John grinned slightly at the nickname.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your mates?” he asked, as he walked up to pay his tab, Greg following behind him.

Greg glanced over at the group. The only one who seemed to have noticed he was gone was Mark who was waiting for him to return with his beer. He rolled his eyes. Mark made eye contact with him and gave an expression of ‘what the hell’ to which he nodded at the door to signal he was leaving. A frown formed on Mark’s face bit he nodded. 

“Taken care of,” he said as he waited for John to pay.  
“Alright then” John said, and walked out of the pub, and then down a side street.

When they were out of sight of the pub, John pushed Greg up against a wall, and kissed him, hard, pressing against him, pinning his hand against the wall when he went to stop him. He pulled back suddenly and looked at him. “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want to cause problems for you with your other mates. I know they don’t like me.” He looked at him, searching for a reaction. “I have wanted to do that all day. And now, I will stop, if you want me to.” He backed off, giving him some space.

Greg groaned in response to the combination of his back being slammed against the wall and John’s lips on his. It felt nearly twice as intense as it had the night before and when John pulled away he had the urge to lean forward and pull him back in for an equally as bruising kiss.   
“It’s just…very different and frankly a bit frightening,” Greg paused for a long moment before he raised a hand to John’s cheek. “But I think I can handle it if you’re teaching me.”  
John swallowed, and looked at him. “I don’t want to scare you. If I hurt you… I dunno what I’d do.” He smiled carefully at him, watching him while he thought. “Well, here’s a lesson learned,” he said, leaning in, but not touching him.

“Follow your instincts. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, chances are, I’ll like it.” He smiled and brushed his lips gently to Greg’s and then started to walk away in the general direction of their flat.

Greg shivered as John’s lips touched his lightly. He nodded and started walking along beside him. It took him a few minutes of walking in silence before he was able to get up the courage to reach out and take John’s hand. He didn’t think John would pull away or anything…no he was more scared for his own sanity. The whole thing was so foreign. In his whole life the only other man’s hand he had held was his father’s and that was when he was a young boy.

John smiled, and entwined his fingers with Greg’s. He didn’t often get anyone, male or female that wanted to hold his hand. usually they were just one night stands. And now Greg had held his hand twice of his own accord, and he rather liked it, the simple gesture of affection. He knew Greg was probably over thinking things, as usual, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted to give him time to think things over. He didn’t want any of this to be a rush decision.

They reached the flat about a quarter of an hour later, still holding hands. John let Greg’s go to let them into the building, and then to the flat. He opened the door for him, and then locked it behind them. “D’you.. want coffee?” he asked hesitantly.

Greg shrugged. It was only half ten and he wasn’t that tired.

“Sure,” he said.

The two made their way into the kitchen and Greg sat down at the table. He was wringing his hands together as he thought. Coffee - people did that when they went on dates. This wasn’t a date? How could it be they lived together anyway…god that was a weird thought. Greg had never actually lived with anyone he was dating. In fact he hardly ever dated the same person for more than a month actually no he didn’t take the same person on a date within 2 months of each other so he technically didn’t date anyone…not properly.

John looked over at Greg, and sighed. “Greg, calm down. We’re mates. It’s just coffee. I’m not trying to seduce you. Yet,” he said with a smirk. The coffee finished and John poured Greg his cup and passed it over to him. “Breathe. Relax. Ask me questions, since your mind is obviously working overtime trying to sort it all out.”

Greg snorted and rolled his eyes. He tried to ignore the shot of excitement the word yet caused to run through him.

“I am not over thinking,” he said and took the coffee.

He took a drink forgetting he hadn’t added any sugar and pulled a face. Black coffee was okay as long as he was actually tired otherwise it tasted rank and was in serious need of some sugar.

“We live together.”

It was a lame statement and rather obvious. Of course they lived together. They had done since John moved out to London.

“We live together and you’ve fancied me…” he paused. “Why? And don’t give me any of that you’re such a wonderful sweet person bollocks. It’s not true. I’m a prick and we both know it.”

“Yes you are,” John stated simply, trying not to smile at Greg’s grimace at the plain black coffee. He passed him the sugar, with a kind smile.

“Yes. We do.” John said. “Not sure when it happened. Prolly because you… God, I don’t know.” John tried to think of when he’d started to fancy Greg. And why. “You… you saw me, at my best and worst, I think. You don’t care who I am, and that’s something I don’t get from a lot of people.” he said. “And you are a prick, but you do have your good points, obviously, or I would’ve found someone else to live with by now.”

Greg scoffed. He was going to point out that John was just exceptionally tolerant of him, but decided there was no point.

“Right…I mean that’s nice and all,” he muttered rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t like ya know the obvious or anything…?”

The explanation annoyed him a bit. He was vain and didn’t really care if someone was interested in his personality -i.e. why he didn’t care much for others personalities- and he knew now that the more he thought about it he thought John was attractive. Well, John had always been attractive he’d just always ignored it. 

John had caused Greg to be speechless. That was interesting. He smiled at him.

“Yes. Well. I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward for you,” he said, watching him. “So.. what do you want from me, Greg?” he asked, worried that his best mate might be mad at him for a very long time, or worse, kick him out.

Greg chuckled and shrugged. 

“Honestly, John I don’t know,” he muttered running a hand through his hair. “I do know that what you did yesterday…it was-it was good and I liked that, but I don’t know exactly where to go from here.”

John smiled a half smile. And then he decided that he would try to teach him a little more. “Do you still want to learn? Or.. do you just want to forget it?” he asked, taking a hesitant step towards him.

He was embarrassed and hadn’t wanted to say it. His pride was holding him back. Greg knew he was intrigued, excited even, and defiantly sexually frustrated by this whole prospective change in his and John’s relationship. But his pride was holding him back from admitting all of this. It was all new.

Still he wasn’t sure if it made him gay or what. John liked girls and guys, but he didn’t refer to himself as gay. He supposed it was bisexual then? Did this make him bisexual? He could learn to be okay with that. Bisexual he turned it over again in his mind thinking it through.

Finally he found his voice.

“John, if I had wanted to forget about it I wouldn’t have come up to you at all when the barmaid said you were paying for my drinks,” he said slowly as he watched John take a tentative step toward him.

Greg was still overthinking things. John stayed where he was until he spoke.

At his words, he tried not to freak out. He took another step towards him, and then another, until he was standing in front of him, but not touching him yet. He smiled reassuringly at him. “Alright then. If you ever want me to stop, just say so,” he whispered before leaning in and kissing his lips gently, and then harder, but not touching anything else. Just his lips.

Greg nodded. His body was ready for the kiss and in fact responded before he really grasped what was happening. By the time he had been able to catch up his hands were at John’s waist and he had shuffled closer to him. Their chests were touching and he could feel John’s heavy breathing…or was it him breathing heavily?

Greg responded better than John could’ve hoped for, his hands going around his waist, pulling him close, and they were touching. John deepened the kiss, running a hand through Greg’s hair, and putting the other around his neck, angling his head for a deeper kiss, and he smiled at Greg’s panting. He backed off his mouth after a little while, giving him time to breath, and trailed a line of kisses down his throat, and under his ear, the other one, different than before, and nipped his earlobe gently.

Again the jello like feeling seemed to be instilling itself into Greg’s appendages and he found himself unable to do much other than pant and lightly rub his thumb over John’s back. Jesus it wasn’t fair. He was cheating it shouldn’t have been nearly this easy for him to send his mind into such a haze.

“J-john,” he gasped. “I might fall over if you keep that up.”

His voice was suddenly raspy as opposed to the normal tone he had only a few minutes before. 

Bastard, he thought frustratedly.

John grinned at his words, and pulled away slightly. “I can take you to the couch or to a bed. Where would you rather go?” he asked just as huskily, grazing his jawline with his teeth. “Remember, do whatever you like. This is about you.”

Greg nodded thoughtfully before he locked his fingers with John’s. He started pulling him easily down the hall and instead of going into John’s room like before he took him inside his own room. Greg never took anybody -anyone he intended to shag ever- to his room…granted he usually never brought them to the flat either but that would have been rather difficult to avoid in this case. He closed the door behind them and slowly reached for John’s shirt to pull it over his head.

Once it was off he stopped and stared at his chest for a moment. John’s muscles were more defined than his and made him feel slightly self conscious about the whole thing, but he tried to ignore that as he stepped forward and swept him into his arms. He slowly and very tentatively pressed his lips to John’s.

Greg took his hand again after a pause and John had to fight the butterflies in his stomach from going into a tizzy. He followed him down the hall to Greg’s room. That was odd. Greg never took people to his room, at least not that John remembered. Course, Greg rarely brought people home at all, but John had figured that was a personal choice. John watched him as he closed the door and then closed his eyes as Greg took off his light shirt and looked at his chest.

John felt oddly exposed. He knew he was lean and tan, but he didn’t really think of himself as incredibly attractive. His looks got him laid often enough, and that’s all they were to him, although he was proud of his healthy lifestyle. Then Greg took him into his arms and kissed him gently, and he ran his hands up his back, and took off Greg’s shirt as well, pulling away only long enough to get his shirt over his head.

e considered stopping John from removing his shirt. The thought of his bare chest being seen wasn’t a pleasant one especially by John. Greg took a breath as he relented though and allowed his shirt to be removed before he was pulled back in for a kiss. Instinctively he pressed forward and pushed John’s back to the cool wood of the door. His hands rested on either side of John’s waist and their hips were just a hair away from touching. But he didn’t know if he wanted to make the next move.

John wanted to look at Greg, but since Greg had him against the door, he let his hands do the exploring. He felt every inch of Greg’s torso, finding a few small scars, he assumed were from sports related injuries, and noted that while Greg wasn’t built, he was muscular and strong. Very much an attractive man, and John smiled against Greg’s lips at the realization that this was really happening.

Greg’s hands had stop moving over him, and John tugged him a little closer by his belt loops, causing their hips to touch, and John rolled his ever so slightly against Greg’s, kissing him a little harder. “Just.. tell me if you need to stop,” he murmured against his lips, bringing a hand up to cradle his head.

He moaned softly against John’s lips. It felt good just as good as it had felt the day before. His fingers ran slowly through John’s hair and pulled him closer still.   
“No, I need more,” he gasped breathily.   
Greg let go of John reluctantly and started over to the bed. He sat on the bed.   
“Please John.”

Greg’s moan and the roll of his hips against John’s gave him wings, and he kissed him again before following him over to the bed. His plea cause John to grow harder than he remembered being in a long time.

He pushed him back and climbed over him and straddled him, rubbing their hips together, and leaning down, he kissed him deeply, trailing a hand down his side and holding his waist.

Greg moaned as John’s erection rubbed against him through the restraining material of their trousers. His fingers were crawling at his partner’s back as he struggled to bring him closer and find the waist of his trousers. If he could find his waist then he could undo the offensive article of clothing and remove it. He was panting and there was a thin sheen of sweat forming on his cheeks and chest. They were burning. The room was rather chilled but it felt like he had just finished running a mile with the rate his heart was going and the short pants his breath was coming in.

John felt Greg’s hands searching and leaned back, and guided his hands to his waist. Then, kissing him still, he pressed against him again, before moving his hand to the waist of his trousers, and undoing his fastening, he pulled down the zipper and slid a hand in to grasp him through his shorts. He was panting and he was loving this, and all he wanted was to love Greg and show him he was doing amazing things to him.

“Jesus,” he hissed when John grabbed his member.   
Greg growled and his hands quickly went to undo John’s trousers and yanked them down over his arse. He took a deep breath as John’s erection hit his and his hips bucked up into his to force the other closer. It frightened him slightly that his body seemed to do easily know what to do as he pushed John’s shorts out of the way and grasped him in his hand.

Greg’s growl caused a shot of pleasure to run through John, and then his hips were hitting his, and he hissed, and ground down on him, and then he moved just long enough to get their trousers and shorts out of the way completely. He came back to him, and straddled him again, and kissed him, putting his hand back between them and grasping Greg again. He pumped him lightly, stroked him from tip to balls, and then back up.

A low rumbling 'oh' sound issued from Greg’s throat and he raked his nails down John’s chest. It was strange for him to see John like that to be under him and writhing with such pleasure. A week ago if someone had told him he would be getting a hand job from his best friend he would have laughed, but now he couldn’t think of anything better. His fingers tightened around John’s cock as his other hand fisted the sheet. He knew what to do but the actual act of doing so seemed to be a trouble to him as he lay there under him bring serviced ravenously.

John moaned as Greg pumped him. For a beginner, he sure knew what he was doing, and John bucked into his hand. He pulled at Greg’s cock a little faster, and rubbed against him at the same time, two kinds of friction, and the pleasure boiled inside him, and he nipped at Greg’s neck, kissing him again.

He moaned and released John’s member and rolled his hips up into him. Greg’s body felt like jello. He was putty in John’s hands which was strange for him seeing as he had never bottomed in any relationship. 

“John,” he whimpered his fingers cutting into John’s hips and held tightly as he could.”Please help me.” 

His breathing was shallow and he was somewhat afraid he was going to bruise him.  
John tried not to smile at Greg’s distress. He kissed him hard, rutting against him, bringing them both pleasure.. Then quickly, he replaced his hand with his mouth on Greg’s cock, and took him in deeply, humming around him, and holding him down.

OH my god, was only the beginning of the stream of colourful phrases spilling from Greg’s mouth as John started to go down on him. Dead. He was dead and this was heaven. He was sure of it. Nothing he had ever experienced was quite like this and left him shaking and thrashing under his partner as this was. Someone could have cut off his hand and he likely wouldn’t have felt it through the amount of pleasure that was burning his veins and pulsing in his cock.

John’s hands were holding his hips steady, likely so he didn’t accidentally get gagged, but Greg’s hands were knotting themselves into his hair as he uttered strings of praise. 

John hadn’t known how Greg would taken him going down on him, but by the colorful language coming out of his mouth, and the way he was gripping John’s head, John thought it a safe assumption that he was enjoying it. He took him in deeper, and hummed around him, licking and sucking him, loving the taste of him. Then he suppressed his gag reflex and throated him, easily, humming all the while.

His breathing was erratic and he could feel John humming so causally as he started to deep throat him. Pleasure shot straight though his body and slammed his groin with such an impressive force it caused his back to arch.

“Jesus John,” he whimpered pathetically.

His grip on John’s hair was no longer firm and was in fact nothing but a light tug. God if he kept going at it like that he was going to orgasm and it was far too quick for that. With some effort he willed himself to coax John away before pulling himself shakily into a sitting position and kissing him hard on the lips. His hands were still shaking and his cock was throbbing with protest.

Greg arched into him, and John allowed him to move, moving his head with him so he didn’t choke. His moans only encouraged him, and he was about to deep throat him again, but then he was being pulled away, and kissed hard on the lips. He returned the kiss eagerly, and then pulled away for air, looking at Greg, a little worried.

“Too much?” he asked quietly, not wanting to scare him. He could tell that Greg was aching for a touch, any touch, and he longed to help him with that.

“No, never too much,” he gasped.

Greg found his legs wrapping around John’s waist in what he mentally thought of as a girlish fashion which caused him to blush, but he just couldn’t get close enough to him. He ran his fingers over John’s chest and stomach running dangerously close to the other’s cock which was obviously aching to be touched as much as he was. It was just a little difficult to give himself that push to take him in his hand.

“Good,” said John quietly, letting him wrap himself around him. He thought about grasping his cock, but then Greg’s hands were traveling over and around his torso and hips, antagonizingly close to his aching erection. John saw the hesitation in his eyes and in his hand. “Only do what you want, don’t feel like you have to do anything,” he murmured, touching his hand and face lightly, comfortingly, he hoped. He kissed him lightly.

Greg nuzzled his nose against John’s hand and allowed his eyes to fall closed as he kissed the palm. Bravely he reached out and wrapped his hand around John's erection, slowly allowing himself a moment to not freak out. As he mentally adjusted to the fact that he was in fact gripping his best mate’s cock in his hand, he slowly gave an experimental tug.

John’s palm tingled when Greg kissed it. Then his hand grapsed John’s cock, and he moaned, trying not to move, to not scare him off. He knew Greg’s mind must be racing at a million miles per hour, so when he tugged his length, John shuddered and smiled. He kissed him again, a little harder, and brushed Greg’s own length, but only the brush - he wanted to hold off for a little bit, and see where Greg would take this.

He was nervous and his hand was shaking slightly, but the sound that came from John’s lips pushed him into doing it again. Greg didn’t really know what he was doing…well he did, but at the same time it was different than having a wank. He hummed against John’s lips. His eyes were still closed so he couldn’t see John’s face. He was afraid to try and take the lead. He wished John would do something more to manipulate the situation seeing as he obviously had much more an idea what he was doing. 

Greg flushed and opened his eyes to look up at John who seemed to be panting from the attention of Greg’s hand on his cock.

John could feel the tension in Greg’s hand, and he knew he was nervous. So, with a hand to Greg’s face, and the other to his cock, John kissed him, and began stroking him rhythmically, giving him something to go off of. Tangling his tongue with Greg’s, and pumping him slowly, he grinned as he felt Greg’s relax a little and start to mirror his actions. The friction felt delicious, and he moaned into Greg’s mouth.

His breathing slowed to what felt like a crawl as he matched the speed of John’s movements. The involentary movements seemed to be the ones that were taking over his body as he continued to rock himself against John and his hand moved of it’s own accord now. He didn’t want this to happen like it had the night before where John had finished him off and asked for nothing in return even though it had been clear he too had been pulsing with need.

John moaned again as Greg bucked into his hand, and he kissed him hard, pumping him harder and faster now, and pushing into his hand.

“Greg, what do you want from me?” he asked breathlessly against his mouth.

”I-” he began in a stutter. 

Greg knew what he wanted, but the idea of actually requesting it felt strange. He had never thought about fucking another male before. Then again before yesterday he had never thought about giving a hand job either, btu he was doing it.

“I want-” he tried again his voice still shaking in a violent stutter.

“JESUS,” he yelped. “John fuck me!”

Had his pride been ruling his judgement at the moment he never would have said it, but currently his pride had been thrown out the window.

John stilled his hand as Greg tried to say what he needed to say. Then he spoke, and John’s heart stilled and then leapt for joy. He kissed him hard, and pushed him back onto the mattress, running his hands over his sides, and then he turned him over, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses over his shoulder and onto his back. He didn’t want to leave him to get the lube, so he used a mix of his own saliva, and his pre-cum to lube up his fingers, and pressed a single finger to Greg’s entrance,

Greg could feel John’s joy and utter excitement in his kiss and in the way his hands ran so gently over Greg’s sides. It was comforting but couldn’t put him completely at ease. In an abstract way he like the idea of sex with John and the more he thought about it the less abstract it became because he realised it was going to happen. He allowed himself to be turned over onto his stomach where he was crouching on his hands and knees. God he was about to have anal. His cock twitched involuntarily at the thought and he moaned. John hadn’t even touched him yet.

Then there were slow open mouthed kisses being placed on his shoulder and back. Greg had never been on this side of sex before -the receiving end- and his thighs were shaking with anticipation. Anticipation as much from sheer need as it was from fright. Crouched on his hands and knees with his arse toward his best mate he was incredibly vulnerable, more so than he had even been in his life, and he wanted it. Greg wanted to be dominated by someone. He had always been the alpha male.

Just as he was about to voice his protest for John taking so long there was a pressure against him. Not extremely strong, but there was pressure right against his arsehole pressing into him slowly. He exhaled a loud moan but stayed still. Greg wanted John to do it all of it without his force for him to go forward because he knew John didn’t want to rush. Slowly he reached back though and spread his arse cheeks to allow John and painfully direct look at what he was doing and to see Greg’s muscles contracting around his finger in protest as he was stretched.

Greg was shaking, and John prayed it was with anticipation, and not with fear. He kissed just above his arse, and then pressed his finger into Greg gently, not wanting to hurt him. He wondered what Greg was thinking, and then he moaned as Greg opened himself up to John. He pressed in another finger, and began stretching him, going a little deeper each time.

It was silent aside from Greg’s breathless panting until a strangled cry of pleasure-pain broke the otherwise nearly silent room. 

“Oh my-John,” he whimpered. 

It hurt. The intrusion didn’t feel right at first. At first he wanted to pull away and curl into a ball, but he forced himself to not move and willed it to get better. It will get better he told himself. He was sure of it. It had to otherwise why would anyone do it?

His fingers were clasped tightly around the bed sheets and his breathing was erratic. God, why did everything worth doing have to hurt at first. His muscles were being stretched in a way they never had before and all he could do was sweat and pant his way through it. Then John’s finger tips brushed something inside of him that caused his muscles to relax and then convulse again with pleasure. His fingers were twitching slightly. 

“Oh fuck do that again,” he cried. 

Greg couldn’t know for sure but he assumed John had brushed against his sweet spot because his sweating felt like it doubled and his hips jerked him back again John’s hand involuntarily.   
John winced. He knew it was going to be difficult for Greg, which is why he’d wanted to wait, but Greg had asked him. He brushed his prostrate on a really deep thrust, and Greg cried out in what seemed to be pleasure, and John smiled with relief. “Okay,” he murmured, before kissing his back and nipping at it gently.

He thrust into him with his fingers again, hitting his prostrate every time, trying to make this as easy and painless as possible. After a little while, he pressed in with three fingers, continuing to stretch him, and kissed his back, trying to relax him a little more.

Greg’s breath hitched and his back arched pressing him back into John’s fingers and thrusting them in further to jab at his prostate again. He was panting. It didn’t hurt nearly as much anymore and he was starting to fall into the rhythm John had set even though it was painfully slow.

“Too slow,” he hissed. 

He grabbed his cock and started to rub himself rather feverishly at almost twice the speed John was currently going.

John moved Greg’s hand, smiling at his enthusiasm, quickening his finger thrusts, and pulling at Greg’s cock with his other hand. “Brace yourself on the headboard,” John advised him, waiting till he had done so.

He stilled his hand on Greg’s cock, and lubed himself up with his saliva and precum, and nudged at Greg’s entrance, pushing in slowly until he was in to the hilt. He didn’t move, but let Greg adjust to him. He knew that it would be difficult and possibly painful, and he didn’t want to hurt Greg.

After a moment, and Greg’s cry, he started to move inside him, and mimicked the movements on Greg’s cock, starting out slow, and getting quicker as Greg loosened and relaxed.

Greg nodded at John’s request and his fingers curled tightly around the metal frame of his headboard. He didn’t know how he was expecting it to feel, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready for it when it happened. First there was just the pressure against his areshole again which was the same as it had been with John’s fingers, but then it started to press into him. He felt himself stretching to accommodate the massive intruder. It wasn’t until then that he realized how thick John was. He had no idea how far in he was, but Greg was sure he felt like he was going to burst at any moment.

Then the movement stopped shortly as John allowed him a moment to take a breather. Only a few seconds later though he could feel the slow rocking as John started to move his hips slowly in an effort to not hurt him. He moaned loudly as John’s tip just barely brushed the sweet spot inside him. Greg’s body instantly started to relax after that and it all started to feel incredibly good, so good that he felt his head was spinning.

John continued to thrust into him. He was so tight, so fucking tight, and he pushed in harder and faster, hitting Greg’s prostrate again and again, and quickening his tugs on Greg’s cock, rubbing him tip to balls, long hard strokes.

“Greg, God,” he moaned thrusting into him harder, deeper, trying to hold back still, but it was becoming more and more difficult the more Greg whimpered beneath him. He saw his white knuckles and the mix of pain and pleasure on his face, and he leaned in as he thrust and kissed his back over and over, wishing he could watch his face. He pumped him and into him faster and harder, groaning and smiling all the while.

It all felt like he was just having a sensory overload and he felt like his brain was just going to shut down to reveal in the sheer pleasure of it all. His breaths felt like a chore and were coming on short shaky pants. Greg’s fingers were twisting the sheets in his hands and he was vaguely surprised he hadn’t ripped a hole in the fabric from holding onto them so tightly. 

A particularly strong burst of pleasure shot through him when an idea occurred to him. Greg released the sheets and turned slightly as he used one shaking hand to push John. He pushed John out of him by the hips. A low groan passed his lips as the intruder was removed from his arse hole.

He could see the confusion and protest in John’s face. Greg shook his head, unable to find words, and leaned up to kiss him. He didn’t have the energy to will himself into putting as much fever into the kiss as he was feeling. When he pulled away Greg lay on the bed on his back and spread his legs so John could move between them. Carefully Greg grasped John’s cock, adjusted his hip for the proper angle for the deepest penetration, and slowly guided John into him again.

Greg pushed him away, and John was hurt a little, though he knew that it very well could be too much for him. Then Greg turned around fully and kissed him. John felt him shaking and he was a little worried, but then Greg was on his back, guiding him back inside, and John closed his eyes and groaned in ecstasy.

He loved Greg. He was incredibly brave to try this on the first go, and John tried to be gentle, but Greg’s hand on his arse and the pleasure that shone in his face and eyes made John want to give him everything. He thrust into him again, the new angle making him want to cry out, and he leaned in and kissed Greg hard on the mouth instead, thrusting into him and taking his cock in hand again, mimicking the movements for Greg, and kissing him all the while.

Greg whimpered at the pressure as John pushed into him and he arched his back into it instantly seeking some kind of gratification. His fingers were locked on John’s waist holding on so tightly he worried he may be hurting him, but the worry was rather far in the back of his mind. He panted squeezing his eyes shut. John’s hand on his cock was driving him mad. The speed of John’s strokes on his cock nearly matched up perfectly with his movements in and out of him. Glancing down Greg could see his tip weeping with precum. Greg wondered vaguely how long John would last and if he lasted longer than Greg what he would do. 

He bit his bottom lip and mentally willed himself to hold back the orgasm. Instead of paying attention to the ruthless amount of attention being put into fucking him Greg released John’s waist and pulled him down again into a long kiss. It was deliberately slow, passionate, and as distracting as he could possibly make it without forgetting to control himself.

Greg was so fucking tight, John was worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, that he’d hurt him when he came. His hands were gripping into him, and John knew he would have bruises in the morning. Then Greg let him go and kissed him, a slow long passionate kiss, and John came with a groan, feeling himself empty into Greg, and then he tugged at Greg’s cock a few more times, and nipped his neck, and smiled as he felt Greg cry out. The cum shot out of Greg and his body shuddered underneath him. John held him as he throbbed and continued to stroke him until he had finished.

He pulled out of him gently, and lay half on top of him, trying not to crush him.

“You alright,” he asked breathlessly, smiling down at his best friend and lover.

Greg shuddered. He had the strange feeling of being filled and realized John had just cum inside him. His face suddenly seemed lazy and the movements on his cock quickened until there was simply no holding on any longer. Greg’s head fell back onto the pillow and he arched his back as he toppled over the edge and hot semen shot from his cock. He was burning and throbbing and so many other words and phrases he couldn’t even think of, but the need, the burning need he had felt since the night before was sated.

John lay half on top of him and both were breathing rather heavily. Greg couldn’t even form a response to answer John’s question. All he could do was put his hand on John’s arm and pant. He was so tired suddenly.

John smiled at Greg, holding him close. He was a little worried when he didn’t answer, but then he realized that he was exhausted, and rightly so. It had been a very long day for his friend. He rolled over so that he was no longer lying on Greg, but didn’t move far enough that Greg’s hand fell off of him. He liked it there.

Greg reached over the side of the bed and pulled his shorts on before curling up into a ball. He was sleepy. Usually Greg slept on his stomach and tool up the majority of the bed, but for some reason he felt the need to curl up and become as compact as possible. Once he closed his eyes he fell asleep rather quickly

John thought about staying with him. He did stay with him until he’d fallen asleep, but then he rolled out of Greg’s bed and with a sigh, he went to his own room and took a long shower. He crawled into his own bed, and stretched out, glad he’d showered. He was sore still and he liked the feel of going to bed clean.

He tried to sleep for a while, but he was hungry. So he got up and padded to the kitchen after tugging on a pair of loose pyjama bottoms, and made himself a sandwich quietly. He ate it rather quickly and then walked back to his room, and got into bed, and read for a little while. Why couldn’t he sleep?

Greg woke sometime later only to see that the sun wasn’t up. He supposed it made sense seeing as they had got in fairly early and he couldn’t have slept for too long. Still his body was stiff, his muscles were tired, and he felt a tad dirty. So he got to his feet, even as his body screamed in protest, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

When he got out he towel dried himself slowly watching himself in the mirror. There just seemed to be something different about him perhaps it was in his head. He didn’t know, but he felt different.

John lolled in bed. He hadn’t slept a wink, and he couldn’t figure out why. He heard Greg move around all night. Then he heard the shower running. He smiled. He hoped he was doing alright. It was rough, your first time… And he’d been through a lot. Probably more than he’d planned to.

He stayed in bed, not knowing what to do. If Greg wanted to talk, he’d come find him. He rolled over on his side and shut his eyes, trying to catch some sleep. Anything would be better than nothing.

Greg sat on his bed dressed in a sweater and a pair of ratty old house trousers. He was uncomfortable. Clothes felt uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck. It was rather chilly though and he wasn’t sure he could just walk round in just his shorts which was what he was currently considering. Greg sighed and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if John was still up.

For a moment or two he just sat there staring at the wall trying to decide if he would stay in his room or go and find John. 

I’ll go look and if he’s asleep, I’ll just come back, he told himself.

Greg got out of bed and started to his door. Down the hall he saw John’s light was off, but instead of turning around and going to lay back down like he had told himself he would he started down the hall. He didn’t bother to knock. If John was asleep it wouldn’t have made a difference. Slowly he crossed the room to John’s bedside. It was dark and he couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. So he took a deep breath and started to strip. Greg stripped down to just his shorts and then slid slowly into bed with John.

John heard him come into the room, and smiled, not changing his breathing patterns at all, calmly inhaling and exhaling, keeping his eyes closed. He heard his clothes fall to the floor, and then Greg got into bed with him. John sighed as if in sleep, and rolled over, draping an arm across his waist, but not grabbing him. He just let it rest there.

Once he was under the covers Greg noticed John scoot over to him and put his arm over him. He didn’t hold him or grab him just put it there like he was reminding Greg he was there. Though Greg wasn’t sure he could ever forget. His mind was reeling as he mentally relived the earlier events of the night over and over wondering how the hell it had all happened. When did he go from being straight as a ruler to being fucked by his best mate?

He bit his bottom lip and stared into the darkness of the ceiling. There was nothing really to look at but it was better than looking at John sleep then he’d just feel creepy. Greg inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly trying to force his body into sleep though it was resisting hardcore.   
John honestly didn’t know what to do for once. Greg didn’t respond, except to tense up a little bit when John’s arm touched him. Slowly, he eased off, rolling back over and away from Greg.

All he could think of was that he had hurt him somehow. Was he rethinking what had happened the last few nights? Was he just here to make it worse for John? John tried not to overthink this. Perhaps they’d moved too fast. It was entirely possible.

He was not going to get any sleep now.

Greg didn’t want to be alone, but John rolled away after a moment and Greg allowed himself to sigh. He hid his face in the pillow and considered leaving. What was he really doing there anyway? God he didn’t know. The thought of being alone after what had happened between them made him hurt. It made him feel in a way he was not familiar or comfortable with. Greg couldn’t even remember the last stable relationship he had. It must’ve been years ago and before he even met John. Perhaps not as long ago as primary school, but certainly not since he’d started uni. God he’d royally fucked up. Greg had played the shag and leave game so long he didn’t even know how to do this. The normal relationship things like cuddling and all that, but that was just looking past the obvious fact that Greg had also never been with another male. 

He laid there on his back for a long time just staring at John’s ceiling. It wasn’t until he could see the sun rising in the distance and that he was sure John was asleep that Greg slowly scooted over to him. His movements were hesitant and a tad unsure, but Greg willed himself into doing it. He wrapped an arm loosely around John’s middle, but still his head was turned the other way.   
John never did quite fall asleep. He dozed off for just a few minutes before sunrise, and when he woke up, Greg had an arm around him. His heart stuttered a little in his chest. Maybe there was still hope for them. He didn’t make a move though, because he feared that if he did, he would lose Greg.

He took a breath, as if he was waking up slowly, and he curled into a ball, his body edging closer to Greg’s, and then he felt the warmth of his side against his back.

Greg noticed John move closer to him whether it was in his sleep or not, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. He had to hide his smile from John -and himself- by pressing his face into the pillow. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after that seeing as his body just seemed to be completely at ease.


	3. The Weekend, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their second night of passion, it's time to talk about things.

John woke up slowly, the sun was streaming brightly into his room and into his eyes. Judging by the angle…. “Christ,” he muttered, sitting up suddenly, jostling Greg’s arm from him, and instantly wincing. He’d probably woken Greg up, and quite rudely too.

He thought it was Monday. He was extremely late for his classes, and hungover to boot. He clambered out of bed, and tugged on a pair of trousers and a shirt, and walked out of his room, nearly slamming the door, but stopping himself in time, and closed it quietly. He went to the kitchen to make himself a quick breakfast.

Greg grumbled as his arm was unceremoniously tossed from John’s shoulder and he heard movement. Vaguely he registered the fact that it was a weekday and therefore he must have classes. He curled up into a ball and watched John dress. 

He was tempted to just grab John by the waist and just pull him back into bed to try and convince him to stay. Missing one day of classes couldn’t hurt and Greg didn’t have anything to do today.  
John quickly scarfed down two pieces of toast and a glass of juice and then ran back to his room to grab his things. As he entered, he saw Greg looking up at him. “I’ve got class,” he said, apologetically. He wanted to stay, so much, but, he couldn’t. He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes.

Greg reached out and grabbed the tail of John’s jumper. 

“Stay, you can miss one day. Tell them you’re sick…I’ll help you study or whatever later,” he whined. 

Greg was grumpy until he had his coffee and he didn’t intend on drinking any because he wanted to go back to sleep. John leaving was certainly not at option for him at the moment. He was still horribly confused and frustrated and the idea of being alone made his blood run cold.  
John sighed and fought the urge to smile at Greg’s whine.

“I’m already late….” he said, mulling it over. He wanted to stay so much. Then he turned and made the mistake of looking at Greg’s face. He reminded him of a confused and lost puppy. He gave him a small smile.

“Fine. But I really do need to study later,” he said, leaning down and taking off his shoes, and lying back on the pillows.

Greg pulled John down into the bed with him and pushed off the other’s shoes. He wasn’t going anywhere. His arms wrapped around John’s waist and laid his head on John’s chest not quite looking at him in the eye. If he looked into the deep browns he might lose it and just start kissing him which was a strange feeling for him. Greg never had such a strong urge to kiss someone when he didn’t intend to have sex with them at some point quickly following.

John smiled as Greg pulled him in. He let him wrap himself around him, and stroked his back, trying to be a comfort. He knew that Greg was struggling with this, with all of it. He was worried about him, but he didn’t want to say anything. So he just let him hold on, humming softly, stroking his back, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his head.

Greg found his fingers drawing patterns idly on John’s chest. The path of his fingers left a light impression in the fabric of John’s shirt. He closed his eyes again desperately wishing for more sleep to come, but after luring there for a good thirty minutes he gave up. Slowly he opened his eyes and stared up at John. 

“I’m straight,” he muttered in a soft and shaky voice. “I don’t understand. I’m straight…and then there’s you.”

He bit his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes closed. Saying it out loud just seemed to draw all the problems and worries he’d suppressed to the surface and he was raw.  
John loved the feel of Greg’s fingers tracing patterns on his chest. He sighed contentedly, continuing to stroke Greg’s back comfortingly. He was happy.

Then Greg’s eyes met his finally. And he spoke, and as he spoke, John’s heart went out to him. He looked to be in so much pain and confusion was desperate in his eyes. He swallowed and sat up a little in the bed.

“Well… it could be because we’re so close anyways. But.. Greg, I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t be hurt if you decide this isn’t for you,” he said slowly. “I .. I don’t exactly know what to say here.”

Greg squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in John’s shirt. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure how he felt, but the more they talked the more he thought and realised he wasn’t pushing John away. Pushing people away was natural to Greg but even as he willed himself to push John away he knew he couldn’t do it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said. 

Greg sat up and looked away from John, his back was to the younger male. It was very likely that this show of emotions was the most John had seen from him ever.  
John held Greg close, scared of what was going through his mind. He continued to rub his back, trying to be comforting if nothing else. Then Greg pulled away, and John watched him hunch over and apologize.

“Greg… ” he said softly, putting a hand on his bare back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to have all the answers. I don’t even have all the answers, and I’ve known how I was for a few years now.. Please,” he said even softer. “Don’t push me away. I can forget this, if you want me to. You only have to be around me as much as you want. And in a couple years, I won’t even be here,” he said, trying to be reassuring.

In less than a couple of years, John knew he would be going out on active duty. He didn’t want to think about it, but he knew it was coming. And then Greg would be on his own, and not have to deal with John and his actions. It wasn’t reassuring to John, but he hoped he would at least help Greg a little.

For a moment Greg almost said yes to trying to forget about it but then he remembered the way it felt to have John inside him and to be so full. He wasn’t sure there was or could ever be something that made him feel that way again. Greg flinched when John mentioned he was leaving - not then of course but in a few years. 

“You know I hate when you talk about leaving. What will I do in this flat by myself?” the second bit was more of a rhetorical question as opposed to one requiring an answer.

He slowly moved over to snuggle up in John’s arms. This was so very emotionally taxing on the both of them. 

“Tell me you won’t go. Even if you don’t mean it. Just tell me you’ll stay,” he muttered as his fingers stroked John’s well muscled bicep.  
John saw Greg flinch when he mentioned his leaving. He’d hurt him, again, and regreted mentioning it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Maybe you’ll find another flatmate. Popular guy like you…” John attempted a smile, but it hurt to think about it. He hated himself for joking about this, especially at such a delicate time. So many emotions coursed through his veins.

Greg moved over to lay half on John’s chest, and wrapped his arms around his torso, and John wrapped his arms around Greg, pulling him close. He lightly kissed the top of his head.

“I won’t leave. I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you need me,” he murmured, stroking Greg’s back again, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I promise. I’ll stay,” he said again, smiling and holding him tighter.

He bit his bottom lip. Greg sighed. His body seemed to relax as John spoke. The whole situation was strange and he wanted to make some sense of it. Greg tilted his head up to look at John slowly taking the younger man’s chin between his pointer finger and his thumb. He pulled John down to him and placed a firm chaste kiss on his lips. When he pulled away his head was spinning. Why was it always so intense with John? Like being high without the actual repercussions of the drugs. 

“Perhaps…we could go-could go on a date…you know do it right?” he muttered. 

Greg’s cheeks were tinged pink as he realized what he was saying.  
John felt Greg relax against him. Then he moved and pulled John towards him and kissed him gently on the lips. John’s heart swelled and he kissed him back lightly. Even so, when Greg finally pulled away, John’s heart was racing, and he smild down at him.

And then Greg asked him out. Basically. Greg’s blush was proof enough that he knew what he was asking. John’s heart leapt a little in his chest as he saw Greg trying to make an effort.

He smiled and kissed his forehead. “Of course we could. We can do whatever you want,” he said, caressing his back.

Greg’s cheeks were still flushed with a bright red even after John agreed. He asked his best mate out on a date…his very male best mate. Greg glanced down at his hand that was resting on John’s toned chest: very male that was for sure.

He cleared his throat.

“Obviously I don’t have the faintest on etiquette when on a date with a lad…or where to go on a er…first date so I’ll leave picking where to go and all that up to you,” he muttered.  
John saw the uncertainty in Greg’s expression. He listened to him silently.

“Greg, it doesn’t matter where we go,” he said, smiling down at him, still rubbing his back. “If we went anywhere, but were together, we would be on a date, and I’d be fine with it. But I’ll pick a place, if you really want me to,” he continued, kissing the top of his best mate’s head.

Greg nodded and nuzzled into John’s hand kissing the palm. This was all so sickeningly domestic. He had no idea what he was doing.

“I’d prefer I’d you did…I’m rubbish at this sort of thing. Dating and all,” he muttered.  
John grinned. “Well.. it’s all a bit new for me too, Greg. I’m not exactly the long time relationship type either, remember?”

“Hey,” he said, pulling Greg’s face up to look into his eyes. “No matter what happens with this, we’ll still be mates. Promise.” He leaned in and kissed his temple lightly, which after doing so, he realized that that wasn’t a “mate” things to do.

Greg swallowed audibly as John pressed his lips to his temple. He shivered. 

“Yeah,” Greg muttered.

His fingers brushed down John’s chest lightly before he decided it was too much for now and took his hand back. He crossed his arms over his chest and rolled over trying to go back to sleep. It was easier since he knew John wouldn’t be going anywhere.

John smiled at him, and held Greg’s hand in his own, and slowly, he finally fell asleep, curled around Greg.


	4. The Weekend, Part 2, and a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg decides he wants to try a date, and John complies.

John left his last class. He’d made plans with Greg after his lab, and he was a little excited about it. A date. A date with his best mate, because his best mate had asked him out. He felt like a fool, to be so enthusiastic about this, but he wanted to make the best of it, for Greg’s sake. So, he had checked movie times, and they were going to see the new action flick in the cinemas. John had already purchased the tickets, but he needed to shower first. He sent a quick text to Greg, smiling as he typed.

Headed home now. You ready? -JW

Greg was lowing on the couch staring up at the ceiling mentally going over the past few days trying to decide when he had consciously decided to ask his best mate out. It seemed it hadn’t been at all and he had just blurted it out. The thought of John leaving him made him feel like he had to give him a reason to stay, a reason to not go into the military. His stomach twisted just thinking about it, but he didnt understand why he felt this way. He had never been bothered by the idea of John’s joining the service before, but he had the sneaking feeling it was because all these feelings had been brought to the surface. 

When he got John’s text he jumped up and ran to shower. He finished in record and spent the next ten minutes in his room pacing trying to decide what he was supposed to wear. Why did I matter? Did it matter? No it didn’t matter. He bit his lip and started to dress in a pair of dark jeans and a jumper John had bought him a few years back. The jumper was a bit tight but he didn’t think it was too bad. He glanced down at himself and realized how much it outlined his stomach an considered perhaps changing, but as he reached to take the jumper off he heard the front door opening. 

“Fuck,” he exclaimed looking around his room for a pair of socks. “Give me a second!”

John was already unbuttoning his shirt as he walked into the flat. “Greg, cool your jets. I need to shower first,” he called out to the empty living room. He walked to the cooler to grab a bottle of water, and then walked back to his room, and stripped quickly, jumping in the shower. He needed to unwind just a little.

He came out of the shower in ten minutes, and pulled on a fresh shirt and trousers, and padded out of his bedroom to get his shoes he’d left by the door. He smiled at Greg who was sitting on the sofa. “Sorry. Needed to clean up a bit.” he admired the clothes Greg had chosen, recognising the jumper he’d bought him as a present a few years back, and grinned internally, liking the way it slimmed him, without being too tight. “You ready to go? Now that I’ve made you wait?”

Greg walked out of his room and pulled his shoes on over his socks before padding back over to the couch where he laid down and waited. He looked up when John entered the room and felt his stomach twist as his eyes flicked over his mate’s body. The shirt John had on -like most of his shirts- outlined his form and basically told you that he had an extremely toned chest and stomach. 

“Don’t worry,” he said and rolled over setting his feet onto the ground. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He stood up and walked over to John. Before he even thought about it he was grabbing John by the waist and pulling him closer by the belt loops. He pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

John smiled as Greg looked over at him. His admiration was clear as day on his face. He stood up and walked over to him and tugged him close. He gently kissed his cheek, and John smiled. “Quite the hello,” he said softly, before just barely brushing his lips over his date’s, and grinning when he pulled away. “We’d better go, or we’ll never leave,” he said softly, pulling away, but holding his hand.

He opened the door for Greg, letting him out before him. “Care for a stroll first? We’ve got a little time before the movie.”

An electric shock ran through him as John’s lips pressed against his causing his eyes to flutter closed, but murmured a sound of agreement against John’s lips. Before he could pull away properly Greg grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him back into a kiss clacking their teeth together slightly.

“You’re right we should go,” he muttered with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He allowed their fingers to interlock comfortably as they started walking.

“Sure,” he said absently. 

Greg pulled him into a breathtaking kiss, and John moaned into his mouth, and glared at his smirk when he pulled back. It was going to be a very interesting night. “Arse,” he muttered as he walked out of the flat with him.

John smiled as they walked. He wondered what Greg was thinking right now, walking out in public, hand in hand with another male, his best mate. John’s stomach was all aflutter. He wasn’t usually this flustered with someone, but.. Well, Greg was different. John had never expected him to return his affections, merely to laugh at him and his foolish thoughts, but instead, here they were, hand in hand, strolling through London, openly.

“How was your day?” he asked conversationally, rubbing his thumb along Greg’s hand as they walked.

The hairs on Greg’s arms prickled as John rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. It still made him blush slightly. 

“My day was…well I spent most of the day in the flat. I’ve been off work a lot lately,” he muttered. 

Greg could feel eyes on them. It wasn’t that anybody was staring. No, homosexual couples were a dime a dozen. What kind of bothered him was that they were being acknowledged as a homosexual couple and it made him uncomfortable. Guilt reeled in his stomach as he slipped his hand out of John’s and into his pocket.

“Sorry, it’s cold,” he said rather quickly. “What was your day like?”

“Oh? Any particular reason why? I thought you liked your job,” said John looking at hi curiously.

Then Greg slipped his hand from John’s and John had to fight the urge to be upset. Of course Greg wouldn’t be comfortable with this. It was their first time in public. It hurt, yes, but.. Well, he had to try to see if from Greg’s point of view. Try being the key word.

“Right. My day,” John said, trying to focus on anything but his empty hand, which he stuck in his pocket, to make ignoring it easier. “Well, I had a pop quiz in Applied Methodology, and a lab for my biochem class… It was pretty average,” he continued, looking at the ground, at the people around them, anywhere but at Greg.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the cinema. John checked in for the tickets, and handed Greg his. He was slightly intrigued by the movie. The trailer had caught his attention, and it had seemed like something Greg would enjoy. Now he wasn’t sure about anything Greg would enjoy.

“Been a bit dodgy lately,” he muttered in response to the question about his work.

He listened to John speak. John’s voice was nice, comforting, and smooth. Even though Greg knew he’d never be able to understand any of the technical bits he still liked listening.

Greg snorted. “Average my arse. If half the people I knew were as brilliant as you…well I’d be the dumbest of the bunch.”

Greg had noticed the look on John’s face and how he had avoided his eyes since he took his hand back. When John went to give him his ticket he grabbed his hand pressing the ticket between their palms.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Then he removed his hand and took the ticket before reaching out and handing it to the ticket woman who was giving them a rather nasty look.

“Never seen a bloke on a date before,” Greg snapped.

He jerked his head for John to follow him and wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders as they headed to get popcorn.

“Don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. We’ll maybe talk about it later,” John said, smiling at him reassuringly.

“Stop it. I’m in med school. You have to know this shit, or you’d not be able to get anywhere. I’m no more brilliant than loads of people,” he said blushing slightly. “And you’re not dumb, Greg, don’t ever call yourself dumb, cause it’s simply not true.”

When Greg grabbed his hand as he gave him his ticket, John brightened considerably. “Don’t be,” he said, smiling at him. Then Greg called him his date, and John’s heart soared. He followed Greg to the popcorn stand, leaning into him slightly.

Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get into that dark theatre.

Greg ordered a small popcorn, because he wasn’t really interested in having any, but if John wanted any he wouldn’t be paying for it, as well as two sodas. He handed John his and led the way into the theater. If he was honest Greg hardly paid the movie any mind as it started. He and John were in the top row near the far side simply because Greg wasn’t interested in people being in their space. As the opening scenes played Greg’s mind was wandering slightly through what it all meant again, but he had to stop himself and concentrate.

What mattered right now? John mattered right now. This stupid movie and John’s feelings. Granted Greg didn’t really care what film they were seeing because it was all really a blurr of movement and sound to him. He was concentrated on John’s hand which was very close to his and John’s lips as he drank from his soda.

Greg ordered a small popcorn, because he wasn’t really interested in having any, but if John wanted any he wouldn’t be paying for it, as well as two sodas. He handed John his and led the way into the theater. If he was honest Greg hardly paid the movie any mind as it started. He and John were in the top row near the far side simply because Greg wasn’t interested in people being in their space. As the opening scenes played Greg’s mind was wandering slightly through what it all meant again, but he had to stop himself and concentrate.

What mattered right now? John mattered right now. This stupid movie and John’s feelings. Granted Greg didn’t really care what film they were seeing because it was all really a blur of movement and sound to him. He was concentrated on John’s hand which was very close to his and John’s lips as he drank from his soda.

They took their seats in the top far corner of the theatre, and John’s pulse was way higher than it should’ve been. He was able to focus for about the first 10 minutes of the film, and then he was no longer able to ignore the feel of Greg sitting next to him in the dark, especially with his eyes on John like that.

Time to teach you about the joys of dating, he thought to himself. Slowly, he moved his hand towards Greg’s and just lightly started to rub circles and patterns on Greg’s hand, smiling slightly as a joke was made on screen. He didn’t look at Greg, but watched him through his peripherals, as he traced the patterns higher on his wrist, and up onto his arm.

Greg’s muscles stiffened and he watched John’s hand take his and his thumb begin to draw nonsensical patterns across his skin leaving a trail of warmth behind. As his hand started to move higher Greg found himself unable to control the small shiver that wracked his body.

What the hell are you doing, he thought turning his head to look at John who seemed annoyingly focused on the movie.

He huffed and turned back to the screen. Greg couldn’t help, but feel a little bit hot under the collar. They were in public for christ’s sake. Knock it off he told himself. He cleared his throat and tried not to let himself lean into John’s touch.

John saw the instant flush that covered Greg’s faces as his fingers danced across his skin. He was staring at him, annoyed, but it was more of a confused annoyance, than a stop-that-or-i’ll-shank-you annoyance.

When Greg turned back to the screen, John grinned slightly, and then moved his hand from Greg’s hand to his thigh, still drawing those idlistic circles.  
Greg exhaled rather deeply as John’s hand moved its attentions from his arm to his thigh. His trousers were suddenly growing uncomfortable. He glanced down and had to stop himself from groaning audibly. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and mentally willed it to go down. Of course it wasn’t all that bad yet, but John’s hand was awfully close to it and his fingers.

NO, stopitnow, he mentally yelled at himself.

Greg cleared his throat as if to warn John of what he was doing, but he said nothing directly. Of course John had to know. He HAD to be doing it on purpose. He refused to believe it was an accident or a coincidence.

Greg cleared his throat and John noticed his very evident arousal and his consequential state of awkwardness. He smiled at another incredible sequence on the screen, and ever so lightly, brushed his arousal, and then moved back out to his thigh. A mere moment later, he brushed it again, a longer steadier stroke.

Greg took a deep breath as John’s fingers brushed him. It was was a mistake. He told himself it was a mistake and drew his eyes away from John’s hand and forced them up to the screen. For a few minutes he stared blindly at the figures moving about the film and deftly hearing their dialogue. 

Then warm fingers brushed his crotch again, slightly more firm, and longer this time. He had to lock his muscles to prevent himself from arching into the touch, but his hand did fly out and grab John’s hand. Instantly he took the hand and pressed it back down against himself letting out a breathy pant. His eyes closed and his head lulled back as he tried to compose himself. Well that move on his part obviously hadn’t helped.

John’s breath hitched a little when Greg caught his hand. He smiled though as Greg tried to relieve himself just a little of the tightness by using his hand. “You look like you could use a little help,” John said softer, leaning over to speak in Greg’s ear. His other hand came over, and grasped Greg’s hand and moved it off of John’s own hand. He moved Greg’s hand over to his arm rest.

At this point, John was half leaning over Greg’s lap. His arousal was very evident, and John was pleased. He kissed Greg’s lips gently, and then with his free hand, he push Greg back in the chair, and leaned down to nose his arousal through his trousers.

Greg exhaled and opened an eye to shoot a venomous glare in Johns direction, but he couldn’t seem to make it a proper glare. Instead it was a stare filled with twisted arousal and lust. 

“You are so mean to me,” he whispered breathing slowly. 

His brown eyes followed John like a hawk as he leaned over the armrest. Greg growled impatiently in an attempt to keep quiet. He could feel a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck from the heat accumulating in his body. It took a large sum of self control to not cry out or fist his fingers into the younger man’s hair forcing him to go down on him. Greg couldn’t make John go down on him. His conscience wouldn’t allow it. 

“I think there’s a line for cruelty,” he panted.  
“You don’t really mind,” John said, with a smirk as he rubbed his fingerpad over the back of Greg’s hand.

He felt Greg’s eyes on him as he moved lower down. “It’s not cruelty, if you want it,” John said simply, before dragging his zip down with his teeth, and tonguing him through his shorts. He smiled at Greg’s efforts to keep quiet. He engulfed him in his mouth through his shorts and sucked on him gently.

He couldn’t do anything but watch as John dragged down his zip. If anything the sight was erotic and made his cock twitch with anticipation even more. 

“Fuck, stop being right and blow me,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. 

His cheeks burned red partly from his arousal, embarrassment, and how incredibly rude that had sounded. Once his zip was down all the way his cock was poking up though still restrained by his shorts. He watched John lick his length slowly and could have died right there, but then a warm wetness engulfed him and his eyes widened watching John take him into his mouth. 

Greg carefully reached around and moved the armrest up so it wasn’t hindering their working out here a lot. He grabbed John by the shoulder and Instinctively dragging him out of his seat and to the floor kneeling in front of him. Greg did what he could to prevent John’s grip on his cock to falter as he was rearranged.  
John’s cheeks flushed when Greg asked him to blow him. He’d intended this all along, but for Greg to ask was really something.

Greg started to adjust him, and their surroundings, to make it easier on him, which he appreciated the gesture. He placed his hands over Greg’s on his thighs, and took him deeper into his mouth, sucking in and blowing out, licking him like an ice cream cone. He could tell that Greg was already on edge, and he was dying to push him over that edge. He pulled his shorts down and freed his cock, so now it was just skin on skin touch. He took him into his mouth again, and hummed softly around him, watching him through hooded eyelids, to catch his reaction. Greg’s reactions were one of his favorite things about him.

Greg’s thighs were shaking and his eyes were closed. He wanted to open them to look down at John and watch. Watching was almost erotic as the actual feelings the act gave. His throat went dry as he tried to stop himself from moaning. The further John took him into his mouth the more he needed the skin to skin contact. There was that awfully offensive layer of fabric between them, but he didn’t want to rush it. The movie was only a half hour in and the had an hour and a half to go. So he allowed John to suck him through his shorts and he forced his hips to lock into place. 

Greg almost lost his bearings though when chilly air hit his cock before it was covered with the warm wetness of John’s mouth. His eyes snapped open then and were transfixed on John. John whose eyes were trained with interest on his own face as he slowly and passionately sucked him off. He bit his lip. Greg’s fingers twitched. He was tempted to grab John’s hair and push him forward forcing him to take all of him at once. God watching was the worst and the best especially since he couldn’t move. If he moved it would be too much. He wondered if John had a gag reflex. God he wanted to fuck John’s handsome face senseless, but he simply tightened his grip on his arm rest and watched.  
John smiled as he sucked on Greg’s cock. He could tell he was desperate to restrain himself and keep from hurting him. John wanted his hand on him though, so he removed his hands from the top of Greg’s and moved one of them to the top of his head, containing a groan. He suppressed his gag reflex and then with a grin, he throated him during a car crash in the movie, humming loudly. He then came back up for air, and then smiled a she licked around him and took the tip of him in his mouth again, sucking gently on him. He squeezed Greg’s other hand reassuringly, and smiled up at his extremely strained face.

Greg was reluctant to allow John to put his hand in his hair. He held on as lightly as he could as but his lips, but his self control didn’t hold out. When John voluntarily swallowed him pulling Greg’s cock into the back of his throat his fingers clenched in the short blonde hair and he steadily pushed him down harder, but all the while he was sure to watch John’s expression for signs of pain. John was humming loudly during the particularly obnoxious car crash scene and sending sound vibrations to tickle his sensitive organ. He was pulsing. The car crash ended and John started to make slightly less aggressive movements. Still the gentle sucking sensation on his tip and the wet muscle flicking over his tip sent him right over. His while body tended for a fraction of a second before he was shooting his seed into John’s mouth.

John felt the orgasm coming from a mile away. He readied himself and thensmiled and swallowed his seed, licking his lips as he pulled off of him, coaxing him through his orgasm. He tucked him away, and straightened everything, before taking his seat again, and kissing him gently on his cheek. “One of the joys of a date in a dark theatre,” he murmured after Greg seemed to have calming down some. He took his hand and entwined his fingers with his own, smiling and watching the rest of the movie, in fairly uneventful silence.

Greg brought John toward him and curled his body around him. Suddenly he was exhausted and he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to cuddle and love on John, but his eyes were too heavy. Their fingers twined together but not long after Greg found himself slipping into dreamland for the rest of the movie. Then unfortunately when the film ended John carefully shook him awake to tell him it was time to go home. 

“And to think we could have done all of that at home,” he murmured sleepily nuzzling John’s neck.  
John let Greg sleep on him, an arm curled around his shoulders. The movie wasn’t that great after all, and the ending was a bit of a knaf, so John woken Greg up as the credits were rolling. At Greg’s statement, John grinned and nuzzled him right back. “Yes, but half the fun is in the element of being in public,” he said kissing his cheek.

“If you want to go home, though, you’ll have to wake up to do so, love,” he said, and then he stopped himself in his tracks. What if Greg though he was declaring his love, which he hadn’t been? Jesus, more fucking problems. He lent him a hand, and helped him up.

The phrase didn’t register as anything more than a pet name. Many girls had used it on him before so he wasn’t bothered hearing it from John even though it was different. 

“Perhaps next time you’ll be careful not to wear me out quite so much,” he teased messing up John’s hair more than it already was.Love. 

Greg slung his arm around John’s shoulders as they walked out of the theatre. It didn’t bother him quite as much, the looks, as they passed and was a bit acknowledged by the other human brings in the area.

“Bed when we get home.”  
Greg’s offhand comment cause John some relief. He grimaced as Greg messed up his hair. “Yea, well, I wouldn’t be complaining, mister,” he said with a cheeky grin.

John absolutely adored the feel of Greg’s arm around his shoulder. It made him feel protected and wanted and loved. He liked the looks on peoples’ faces as well, to be honest, though they were a tad annoying.

“Of course,” he responded with another wide grin.

Upon stepping into their flat Greg started stripping. First he kicked off his shoes, both socks, his jacket, trousers and by the time he had made it to his bedroom everything aside from his shorts had been tossed on the floor at some point during the journey. He was only vaguely aware of John somewhere behind him likely either picking up his clothes behind him or just chuckling in amusement. By the time he flopped down onto his bed he was shivering slightly and his nipples were hard from the cold. 

“John is the heater broken again?” he complained assuming the younger man couldn’t be too far behind him. “Because I’m so cold my nipples could cut diamond.” 

Greg was curled up holding his plush blanket and pressing his cheek against the plush material when he realized John was standing in his doorway.  
John followed the older man into the flat and intrigued, watched him strip off all he was wearing as he walked to his room. He smiled, and picked up his things, and puts them in a pile outside his room. Greg’s comment made him giggle.

“It might be. Or it might be because you’re not wearing much,” he said with a gleam in his eye, as he stood in Greg’s doorway, leaning up against the door frame.. “Need a bed buddy?” he asked, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and looking at Greg, an eyebrow cocked as he looked at him.

Greg groaned. 

“I disagree. I walk round this flat nude when you’re not around and I’m never cold unless that blasted heater is broken,” he complained opening one eye to observe John.

His eyes seemed to be drawn unwillingly straight to John’s fingers as they began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He licked his bottom lip lazily watching him with interest. Greg hadn’t come to terms with liking men or calling himself gay…even bisexual, but he had given up denying he was attracted to John because you have had to be a fool not to see it. The way Greg’s eyes immediately trained themselves on John when he came in the room, the way they laughed together, and were just generally very comfortable with one another in any state of undress…even before everything had changed. 

“Mmmm bed buddy…sound horribly PG,” Greg muttered. 

He hoped John might be going where he thought he was going with this. The movements to unbutton his shirt were almost painfully slow and Greg was firing so see the full muscled chest and toned flat stomach.  
John grinned at Greg’s words. “Nude, huh? Too bad I missed that. I’ll have someone come look at it if you want,” he said, undoing the first few buttons.

Greg’s eyes on him were confidence inspiring, and also terrifying. He knew that he was attractive, and that Greg liked his body very much, the way his eyes tracing every aspect of his torso. He unbuttoned his other buttons just as slowly, and pulled it off, twisting a little, sliding it over his shoulders, and then tossing it behind him. He wasn’t an experienced stripper, but he knew there were two kinds. The kind that shocked you by how fast they ripped off their clothes, and the kind that made it agonizingly slow. He wanted to be the second kind. He smiled cheekily at Greg, and then his hands traced down his own chest to the waistband of his trousers, not close enough to undo his zip and button.

“It’s only PG if you want it to be,” he said teasingly, a twinkle in his eye.

Greg licked his lips with interest as he watched John’s hands move slowly over his torso. His eyes drank in the sigh as he watched how the muscles moved in a synchronised pattern with their neighbours. It was beautiful. 

“I should hope so. PG is rather boring and certainly not my style,” he drew in a short breath as John’s hands dipped down as if he was going to unbutton his trousers…but he didn’t. “And it would be a shame to see that go to waste.”

When had he become such a horn dog? Actually that was a stupid question Greg had always been easily aroused, but John…Greg bit his lip. Why did John’s voice sound so much more soft and seductive than any woman he’d ever been with? It didn’t matter really. It was driving him mad that was for damn sure. 

“I think you might be still over dressed for bed,” Greg murmured eyeing the trail of pubic hair from John’s naval that traveled down to the waist of his trousers and disappeared under his shorts.  
John grinned flirtateously at Greg. He dipped his fingered below his own waistband and slowly pulled the buttons out of their places, and then undid his zip, and pulled it down, but made no more move to take off his trousers.

“I am. But would you rather watch, or help me out of them?” John asked, letting his pants slide down his hips, his hands on his hips. He loved the hungry look Greg was giving him. He walked slowly towards Greg, more dramatically than he usually walked, keeping his eyes fixed on Greg’s.

Greg’s hands shook as he got to his feet and paced over to John. For a moment he just stood there in his shorts his eyes sweeping over John’s body slowly admiring all the details of the toned torso, but his eyes came to a halt at his waist. John’s hands were on his hips and his trousers were riding a good three or four centimetres lower than his shorts. He reached tentatively for John’s waist and hooked his thumbs in John’s shorts. 

“I rather enjoy watching you though,” he murmured leaning in and nuzzling the other’s neck. 

He made no move to back off or to remove John’s clothes. Greg somewhat expected John to back down, but he couldn’t know for sure.  
Greg walked over to John until he was standing mere inches from him. Greg stared at his body unabashedly, and John had to physically keep himself from blushing. He reached for him and tugged his shorts.

“Then watch me,” he said huskily, leaning his head back and trying not to moan as Greg nuzzled his neck.

John took the two steps it took to come into sharp contact with the full of Greg’s body. “Unless you’ve changed your mind,” he said softly leaning into Greg to whisper in his ear, and then tugging on his earlobe gently with his teeth.

“I can do that,” Greg muttered and pressed a soft kiss to John’s neck.

He brushed his finger tips slowly down John’s side caressing him as John pressed their bodies together. Greg chuckled and stepped back pressing a finger to John’s lips and shushing him.

“Nope, certainly not,” he murmured brushing the back of his knuckles over John’s cheek. 

He stepped back and sat down on the edge of his bed. His dark eyes were trained solely on John. The thought occurred to him that he was putting John on the spot, but his interest in watching the younger man strip won out over his conscience. Greg had always liked this sort of thing. His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip as he waited and his fingers absently clutched his duvet. 

John smiled and shuddered slightly when Greg brushed his cheek, and then he sat back and watched him. Gradually John worked his pants off, swaying his hips from side to side, and slipped them off his body, kicking them to the side. He smiled at Greg, and slowly took the two steps it took to stand between Greg’s spread legs. He leaned over Greg and brushed a hand over his face, and down his neck. He ran a hand through his hair, and brought his face close to Greg’s, then straddled him, barely putting any weight on him.

“You sure you just want to watch?”

Greg’s breathing seemed to stop as John sank down on his lap. The pressure on his groin was excruciating -despite how light it was- and his hips jerked involuntarily eliciting a low groan from his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the hard on that had been developing, since John started to strip, in his shorts away. The fabric of only their shorts was so thin and flimsy though it was hard not to have graphic flashbacks to the previous night and the night before that. Of course thinking about those encounters didn’t help his situation any.

“I-,” he stopped and took a breath. His grip on the sheets tightened until it seemed his knuckles were going white. “I-don’t.” He swallowed. “I mean- no.”

He could feel John’s face so close to his and he could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. 

“I mean. Yes-I wanted to watch,” he groaned squeezing his eyes shut.

He couldn’t decide which was more erotic; watching or doing.

John watched Greg as he struggled for control. He closed his eyes, and John smiled.

“Greg, it’s hard to watch, if you don’t keep your eyes open,: he murmured, and kissed his eyelids, ghosting his hands over Greg’s sides.

“Relax. What do you want from me, Greg,” he murmured, grazing his jawline with his teeth. His body was still straddling Greg’s but not fully seated on him. His hand brushed lower on Greg’s side, and tugged gently on his shorts. “Let yourself go,” he whispered, directly into Greg’s ear.

Greg’s cock stirred as John’s fingers brushed down his side and went to tug on his shorts. He let go of the sheets and rested on John’s waist just above the elastic of his shorts. 

“It is hard,” he muttered softly.

His hips lifted slightly to press his erection against John’s inner thigh. Greg’s hands slid under John’s shorts and slowly started to pull them down over his arse as he gripped the younger man’s cheeks. He didn’t really know what he was doing all he had to go off of was what John had done before and Greg knew for damn certain that had felt good. 

John smiled as Greg’s hand went to his waist. He heard the double entendre in his words and started to laugh, but his breath hitched in his throat when Greg began to slid off his shorts.He brushed his lips to his ear, and down his jaw, murmuring his name, relishing the boldness of Greg’s movements.

The thought suddenly came to him that Greg shouldn’t be doing this. Not this soon. He…. “Greg, how are you feeling,” he said, scooting off of Greg’s lap and sitting next to him. “It’s… well, it’s a little awkward, but you should be in some kind of pain right now. It was your first time, you know.” He hated how awkward he sounded, but above all, he did not want to hurt his best mate, no matter how much they wanted each other.

Greg groaned in displeasure as John rolled off to the side of him and regarded the younger male with an irritated stare. He didn’t understand. Didn’t John like him? Had he done something wrong? Whatever it was all Greg could really concentrate on was his pulsating hard on. Then it all made sense. John was concerned for him. That was annoying, he thought. Obviously it was nice and all but still it was his body and he knew how far he could push himself. 

“I’ve been taking painkillers periodically,” he said. “Besides though it doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

He was certain John likely knew the second part was a lie seeing as he’d likely been where Greg currently was before. Still Greg told himself he knew what he was doing. 

“I’m fine, really,” he tried to reassure him.”I like pain anyway.” 

He leaned in to kiss John -ignoring the resistance he felt from the younger man- and took his hand slowly gliding it down his back and pressing John’s pointer and middle fingers against his arse. Greg rolled his hips back pressing against him and exhaling a low throaty moan. 

“Don’t you want me?” he whispered.  
“Greg, stop lying to me. I’ve been where you are. It hurt like fucking hell my first time,” John said, rubbing Greg’s cheek. “Yea, painkillers help, but it’s still a bitch.” He could tell he’d hurt Greg by moving away. This was ridiculous, no matter what he did, he hurt him.

John smiled a little when Greg mentioned that he liked pain, and then Greg was kissing him, and he had to fight the urge to kiss him back. Then Greg was moving his hand and pushing against him, and he pulled away again. “Greg, don’t make me hurt you. I never want to hurt you,” he said, standing up. He felt a fool, but he cared about this stupid foolish wonderful man, not matter how much of a complete idiot he was being about moving too fast. He looked at his best mate and lover with a sad smile.

“Of course I want you. I always want you… But I can’t hurt you. It’d kill me. Can’t you understand that?”

Greg rolled his eyes at John’s response. He shook his head.

“Sorry but ‘understand’ isn’t in my vocabulary at the moment,” he muttered.

He grabbed John’s wrists and pinned them above his head as he straddled the younger man’s waist. Greg hummed softly as he rolled back against him rubbing John’s cock against his arse and smirking down at him. 

“What if I decided to make you?” he muttered his eyes sparkling with mischief.  
John rolled his eyes back at him, a little annoyed by Greg’s stubbornness not understanding. And then suddenly he was being pulled back down to the bed and pinned down by Greg, who was suddenly straddling him and rubbing on him. He groaned as he felt Greg’s entrance, and shuddered, closing his eyes, swallowing hard. Why was he so damn amazing? John’s resistance was wearing down, but he felt his resolve rise and he pushed him off again,

“I don’t want to hurt you, Greg. I won’t do it,” he said finally, looking up at his mischievous face with sad eyes. It killed him to say it, so he decided to try and cushion his words. “Do you know how much I want to? How much I want you right now? It’s killing me not to be able to fuck you senseless right now, but I have to, because I’ll hurt you, and I can’t, I won’t hurt you, Greg.” He took Greg’s hand in his own, and brushed it gently.

Greg scowled and made a melodramatic huffing sound. He rolled onto his side and faced away from John. It made sense that John wanted to protect him but Greg was very sure he knew his limits and could stop himself before he injured himself seriously. 

“Whatever it’s not like it’s my body or anything,” he grumbled. “Doctor John knows best.”

Greg didn’t know why he was acting so childish but he was very irritated John wouldn’t satisfy either of their needs. You have had to have been blind to not notice how aroused they both were and Greg threw a dirty look not at John’s face but at his cock which was tenting his shorts. 

He grumbled to himself and looked away from John. Greg reached into his own shorts and withdrew his cock which he slowly began to pump. If John wouldn’t fuck him he’d just masterbate. He didn’t care if John left or if he just stayed and watched -the latter was preferable because then he’d see John’s face as he agonised over the sight.  
John hurt as Greg turned away from him. He hurt because he was trying to be careful with him, and Greg wanted to go full force.

His cock twitched in his shorts and he closed his eyes and willed it away, knowing that it was going to be a very long night. Then Greg turned to look at his waistline, and John flushed, at which, Greg turned around and pulled his erection out of his shorts and began to masturbate in front of John, but still turned away. A shot of desire flooded John’s veins, and he groaned slightly, and then crawled up behind him and kissed his shoulder.

“Just because I can’t fuck you, doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” he murmured against his back, bringing his hand around to Greg’s cock, and replacing Greg’s hand with his own, stroking at the same pace.

Greg was doing as best he could to ignore John’s existence. He had no intention of letting John do anything. John had tortured him -not that he hadn’t been ok with it- by making him watch him strip so now seeing as John had refused him Greg decided it was fair. He gasped as John tired to remove his hand and replace it with his own, but he but back the moan and scowled. Greg turned his head to look at John. It was childish, but he didn’t care. Greg grabbed John’s hand and pushed it away. 

“That’s too bad ,” Greg muttered. 

He didn’t worry about pushing John away from him. It was probably more torturous to allow him to be so close as Greg pleasured himself. His eyes slid closed and his body went lax. It was nice to have the warmth behind him and the light pressure of John’s cock, through his shorts, against the small of his back.  
Greg pushed him away, and John hurt. He ached to do something about it, and his loins throbbed against the heat of Greg’s back, and he painfully remembered where they’d been only yesterday, and then tonight in the cinema. He longed to just give him and fuck him against the headboard, but he knew that it wouldn’t be good for him, and in that, not good for either of them.

Then Greg relaxed against him and his back pressed into John’s groin and a wave of pleasure raced through him. With a great deal of effort, he pulled away from Greg, and got off the bed wordlessly, and left the room, leaving his clothes on the floor, and walked to his own room, and locked the door behind him. He needed to shower, and soon, or he’d go mad. He’d take care of his own, and not worry more about Greg tonight. “So much for a good first date,” he muttered to himself, ripping off his shorts and climbing into the shower.

John got up. He felt him get off the bed, listened to him leave, and Greg forced himself not to open his eyes or stop what he was doing. It wasn’t until he heard the shower turn on that Greg stopped. Sluggishly he pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked down at his aching cock. He could almost hear it crying for him to go get John and apologise for being a git to him, but he knew John well enough to know he’d have locked his door. 

“I know,” he muttered. 

Greg stared at his erection, the erection caused by John, never had he known himself to become turned on so easily before by a woman. 

Maybe you are gay, he thought. 

Greg took himself in his hand again and tripled the pace at which he had been moving before. He wanted it over and done with. He was angry with himself. After having gotten off Greg rolled over and went to sleep.


	5. Date Gone Wrong and Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the sorry end of their first date, John and Greg still have to make up, but things aren't as easy as they seem.

In the morning Greg didn’t get up. He laid in his bed listening to John moving about the flat and getting ready for class. He thought about how he should go in to work but didn’t move.

John quickly got himself off in the shower. In fact, he had two wanks in the shower, because he could not get Greg off his mind, and it was killing him. He finally got out and dressed in a pair of pyjama bottoms and went to bed, still thinking about him. It was a very long night.

John got up with the sun. But he stayed in his room, and read some of his homework over and fixed a few things. It was around 8 when he finally left his room. Greg’s door was still closed, and he wondered whether he was still home. He nearly knocked on the door, but decided against it. He was probably still mad at him, and John had a long day to get through. He made himself some breakfast, and after a little while, he made coffee. Coffee usually woke Greg up. He may not want to talk to John, but John was still going to make an effort.

He heard the coffee pot turn on and knew John was trying to apologise. That was always how it went when they had a spat, John fixed it with a coffee, except he didn’t want to get up nor did he really want a coffee. Greg curled up into a tight ball and listened to John’s steps willing them to put him to sleep. Eventually John would have to leave for class and he could get up then and when he did he’d call Mary. Mary was a bit of a slag, but she was a pretty good shag so he kept her around. For a while she had tried to actually get him to date her before giving up and resigning to their relationship as occasional shags. He was okay with it and she seemed to be as well, but Greg also knew John did not like Mary. It was a risk, but he needed to get over this. He needed to get over this strange infatuation with John and move back to his normal self of shagging and moving on. Finally the sound of John’s footsteps faded into the back of his mind and Greg found himself growing drowsy. He hummed idly to himself as his mind drifted slowly to sleep. 

Greg slept for nearly two hours before his eyes fluttered open. Slowly he started to stretch and straightened himself out on the bed relaxing his stiff muscles. He thought idly for a moment about just going back to sleep. Greg sat up in his bed and started searching around for his phone. There was no way he could keep this up this obsession with John. Greg rubbed his temples and grabbed his phone from the side table bring up Mary’s number. 

John ate slowly, and put off leaving for as long as he could, but he did eventually have to go to class. The day dragged on, and Greg never left his mind. John was worried more than anything. He felt like he had failed as a mate. The sex was the least of his problems. He loved Greg as a mate more than as a lover. That was what they’d been for a very long time, and even if he had to go back to the way things were before, he was willing, just as long as he didn’t have to lose Greg’s friendship. Over the period of several hours, John set Greg many texts.

Are you awake? -JW

I left you coffee. Sorry. -JW

Pizza tonight? -JW

Are you okay? Did you make it into work? -JW

Why won’t you answer? Are you alive? -JW

Greg, this isn’t a joke anymore, answer me. Please. -JW

Greg, answer this, just let me know you’re okay. -JW

Fuck you, you bastard. You’re worrying me. -JW

All of his texts went unanswered, and John grew more and more panicked as the day wore on. All he wanted to do was go back to the flat and find Greg either passed out in his bed or see if he was at work. Finally his last class was over, and he booked it out of the study room, throwing his paper on the professor’s desk. He caught the bus home and walked swiftly up to the flat, taking the stairs two at a time. He didn’t knock before entering, but what he saw on the couch made him wish he had. He nearly turned around and walked out then, but when he saw who it was that Greg was in the middle of shagging, he felt his heart grow cold, and he threw his bag on the ground and slammed the door as he walked to the kitchen to grab himself a beer, blatantly not looking in their direction.

After speaking with Mary on the phone for a few minutes Greg hung up and heaved himself out of bed to go take a shower. True it was rather pointless to shower before getting dirty like he intended to, but he liked the feeling of being fresh and clean. It wasn’t long after he got out of the shower that he heard a knock at the door. Greg hadn’t bothered to re-dress fully so when he answered the door in just his shorts it instantly set off a spark of lust in Mary. She shut the door and pushed him down onto the sofa. He was slightly surprised. Of course they weren’t the sort for slow sex or a large amount of foreplay, but she was ripping her clothes off faster than he had time to appreciate the sight. 

It was strange though. When she was completely bare before him it hardly caused his cock to stir. In fact she had to go down on him for nearly fifteen minutes before he was fully erect and able to penetrate her. By then she was begging him for it, literally. They had just gotten into the heat of it when Greg vaguely heard the front door open. He wondered why but when he turned his head to look, Mary grabbed his face drawing his attention back to her, but Greg recognized the foot steps. 

John was home. For a moment he thought John was going to be angry and cause a scene right in front of Mary, but no he calmly strode right past them into the kitchen. That was when Greg snapped.

“Get out,” he said in a cool tone looking Mary straight in the eye.

He quickly pulled out of her, glaring down at himself in disgust, and started gathering her clothes. She was shocked. The look of confusion and hurt on her face would have been madly amusing in any other setting. Mary scrambled to dress as she moved toward the door still looking confused. Greg sat back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t until she was out the door that he bothered to pull on his shorts.

“What’s got you so pissed?” Greg asked.

He didn’t have to speak above his normal tone. They were alone in the flat now and he knew John could hear him.

John didn’t look at them, he couldn’t look at them, why couldn’t he look at them? It wasn’t like Greg hadn’t shagged women before. He apparently had a thing with that Mary slut. He shagged her more often than the others. She was a skank, and for that reason alone, John told himself, he hated her. Suddenly through his daze of thought, he heard Greg tell her to get out, and turned to see a half dressed Mary, makeup messed up and hair aflutter run out of their flat, and Greg sat up on the sofa, still not looking at him. After a quiet while, he spoke, and John’s heart fell. Why did he do this to him? When did he start having this effect on him?

“Pissed? Oh I’m not pissed, Greg.” John said slowly. He didn’t raise his voice, because if he did, his emotions would be let out to run loose, and he didn’t feel like he should be the weak one here. “I was worried. I texted you all day, because I was worried. And then to find out that you were here shagging someone… when did you decide to start bringing them home? No. You know what, I’m not pissed. I’m fucking furious. But it doesn’t matter what I feel. I’m just.. just a mark on your headboard now.” John stopped talking before he threw something and he turned back away from the back of Greg’s head. He’d said too much. He should just go, leave, like Mary.

 

Greg sat there listening. He was shocked, confused, bewildered. He couldn’t even find the right words to explain the unrest he felt. John had thought something was wrong? He had worried? Greg’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. Guilt. He felt guilty that was a new feeling for him. It had been a long time since he had felt guilty for his actions. He didn’t feel guilty when he left girls lying in their beds alone after a good shag, he didn’t feel guilty when he skipped out on dates, or when he didn’t call, but he suddenly felt guilty for this. Greg’s heart was twisted up into a knot at the thought of what John must be feeling. 

For a second Greg thought about leaving. If he left he could ignore it all and go to a pub to drown himself in alcohol for the rest of the night and then come back screaming and angry at one in the morning or something. Then there was the possibility of just not coming back. He entertained it for a moment before deciding that would be too much for him. John wasn’t his best mate anymore, their relationship would never go back to how it was before. He knew that for sure. 

There was a long moment of silence, in which Greg simply stared at the wall, before he got up and started for the kitchen. John was still in there. He was holding the beer and leaning over the sink like he was going to vomit. Greg wanted to comfort him. He thought about going to hug him, but stayed where he was.

“You’re not, you know?” he began slowly. “A notch in my headboard I mean. You were my best mate.”  
Greg didn’t say anything at first. And that hurt John more. Then he heard him get up off the couch, and move into the kitchen and come up behind him. John couldn’t look at him. Then he spoke. And John died a little inside. He didn’t turn to look at him, couldn’t turn, he had to stay and look at the sink, cause if he looked at Greg, he’d hurl, and he didn’t want to do that.

“I was your best mate? Good to know.” John forced himself to look over his shoulder at Greg’s face, and then he turned to walk away. “Very good to know. I’ll just go and start packing.” That’s what he’d do. Pack. Go live on the street. Better than to live with someone who disliked him so much, who’d broken his heart and left it on the ground to be trampled on by the likes of Mary. Then he’d go get pissed drunk, and maybe whore himself out, for food money.

Greg grabbed John by the arm and jerked him back. 

“YOU! You’re a git you know that,” he yelled. 

Suddenly Greg couldn’t control himself or all the feelings he had been feeling in the past few days and he pushed John, hard, into the counter, but he didn’t approach him. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. 

“This is all your fault! All these bloody feelings I’ve been having the past few days! It’s you! It’s like the second you said you fancied me something changed and I’m just not even me! I want to be with you all the time and I…I don’t know what to do about any of it.” he yelled.  
John felt Greg yank him back and shove him into the counter, hard enough that John knew he’d have a bruised hipbone for at least two weeks. He let Greg shout abuse at him, and he knew all of it was true. This was his fault, he should never have told him. It was safer that way.

All he could say wouldn’t make this better. “Well, you don’t go screwing Mary fucking Morstan in our flat. That’s the one thing you shouldn’t do,” John said coldly. “It’s not exactly been easy for me either, Greg. So fuck off. Go find someone else to help you with your little problem, cause no matter what you say, you obviously don’t want me with you all the time.” Then he grabbed Greg by his shoulders and pulled him to him roughly, and attacked his mouth, hot and open, ignoring what he’d just said to him, needed to claim him for his own. Needed to show him that he needed him more, that he needed him for a long time, if not always, and that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“The only reason I even rang Mary was because of this. I rang her because I needed to get out of my mind because all I can think about is touching you even if it’s just holding your bloody hand! Never in my life have I questioned my sexuality, but bloody hell I’ve never been more sure I wanted someone than now! I don’t do relationships John! Don’t you get that? I haven’t had a proper relationship since I was 15 and now all of a sudden these feelings are just-” 

And then John’s lips were on his in a burning open mouthed kiss. He broke. Every reserve barrier just seemed to snap like twigs under John’s touch and his knees gave out sending them both to the floor in a heap. Tears ran down Greg’s cheeks as he locked his arms around John’s waist.

Greg’s words only made John want to claim him more. He fell with him to the floor, and pulled him tightly against him. He felt the tears streaming down Greg’s face, and he lightened his kisses, moving a hand to his face to brush the hot tears from his cheeks. He swallowed as he pulled away, and kissed the tears from his face, before coming back to his lips, the salt in his tears mingling with the taste of Greg’s mouth. He pulled away again, just to look him in the eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he said softly, before kissing him again, hard, and held him tightly against him. He rubbed his back, and made Greg straddle him, for comforts’ sake more than anything. He wanted him, they wanted each other, but they needed each other right now, more than they wanted each other.

Greg squeezed his eyes shut when he felt John pull away and the tears only came faster as John tried to kiss them away. He was shaking as his finger moved to knit themselves into John’s hair. The tears wouldn’t stop, the more John tried to comfort him, and the more he cried. Reluctantly he allowed John to position him to straddle the younger man’s waist. His whole body was still shaking slightly with a mixture of anger, confusion, and pain. 

“I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he cried.  
John’s heart broke for him, and he held him close, and kissed his face, his ears, his neck his shoulders, trying to comfort him somehow. Greg’s hand threaded itself in John’s hair, and he desperately tried to keep himself from crying, but it was too late, as he felt a single tear swim out of his eye. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t.. I didn’t want to do this to you, Greg. I never wanted to hurt you,” he muttered into his shoulder, rocking them back and forth. He could feel Greg shaking and he knew that this was killing him almost as much.. maybe even more than it was killing John. They were so bad, and yet so good for each other. “Tell me what I can do…. please,” he said into Greg’s shoulder, needing to fix it somehow.

Greg drew in a deep breath and allowed himself to be pulled up into John’s arms. He raised his hand almost as if by instinct and wiped away John’s single tear as it trailed down his cheek. It was then that Greg realised he didn’t really know what he was crying for. What did he had to cry about? John was there and they were together. 

“You said you’d never leave me,” he said. 

It didn’t matter. All the little details like sexuality and relationship status didn’t really matter. What really mattered was the young man whose arms were clinging tightly to him. Greg rested his forehead against John’s throat and closed his eyes just listening to his breathing.  
John leaned into his touch and smiled a little. He sighed as he pressed his forehead to Greg’s. “I won’t. I really won’t. I don’t ever want to leave you.”

Nothing else mattered then, other than staying here, with Greg. The military didn’t matter, sex didn’t matter, school didn’t matter, nothing mattered. He leaned his head on the top of Greg’s head and sighed, breathing slow, trying to calm his racing heartrate.

He sat there, cradling Greg, and humming softly as he did, rocking him back and forth.

Greg sighed and pulled back from John. He sat idly in the middle of the kitchen on the tile floor staring at John. Neither of them knew what they were doing or where to go from where they were, but Greg was certain he couldn’t walk away, not even if he had wanted to. He took John’s hand and got to his feet. 

“Come with me,” Greg said.  
John let him go, and just stared back at Greg. When Greg helped him up, he kept his hand in his own.

“Where are we going?” he asked, a little confused, and quite emotionally tired, but he was intrigued.

“Shower and to sleep,” Greg said simply. 

He opened his door and lead John in behind him as he made his way to his bathroom. Greg’s bathroom was somewhere he never allowed people to go seeing as it was -in his mind- an even more ‘sacred’ place than his bedroom. He opened the door and ushered John into the small space first. His hands ran over John’s sides down to the hem of his shirt which he slid his fingers under and started to pull John’s shirt off. The shirt hit the floor a second or so later and Greg’s hands were at John’s waist pulling him back so John’s back was flush against Greg’s already bare chest. He pressed a soft chaste kiss to John’s shoulder. 

“Just a shower,” he whispered as he pulled down the zip of John’s trousers and push them slowly to the floor.  
John followed him into Greg’s bedroom, and swallowed a lump in his throat as Greg led him by hand into his bathroom. His skin tingled when Greg ran his hands down and up his sides, slipping his shirt off over his head. He let his head roll back as Greg pulled him flush to his nearly naked body and started to undo his pants, and dropped them to the floor

He bit back a moan as Greg kissed his shoulder, and smiled. “Only a shower? Somehow,” he hissed as he felt himself harden at the thought. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should,” he said coolly.

Greg chuckled and started to shimmy his own shorts off before taking off John’s. Once he had done Greg ran his hand lightly over John’s shoulder and got into the shower first. Greg acted as though John were not there and started to pour some shampoo into his hand to wash his hair.  
John bit back the urge to kiss Greg as he first took off his own shorts and then John’s. He then walked into the shower and began to wash his hair, like they weren’t naked together in the same small room.

John shook his head, and climbed into the shower with him. “Here, let me,” he said, scooping the shampoo out of Greg’s hand and working through his own fingers. “Close your eyes,” he said softly, and then turned his best mate around and started to work at scrubbing and massaging his head and his hair. The water felt glorious after a long day of studying and worrying, and John felt his muscles begin to relax as he worked at Greg’s hair.

Greg sighed and relaxed against John. The warmth of John’s fingers through his hair felt like heaven. He sighed and leaned into him. Greg’s fingers trailed slowly down his arm as John continued to work his fingers through Greg’s hair. His eyes slid closed. 

“That feels good,” he muttered absently. 

He allowed John to continue washing his hair for a few minutes before stepping back into the water and letting the soap rinse itself out. It was nice to be there with John in the shower with the glass door cover in a film of steam they were isolated. Greg poured some body wash on his hands and started rubbing it on John’s chest up onto his hand and down his stomach.  
John swallowed a little as Greg leaned into him. He could do this. Really. Even with Greg’s fingers trailing over his arm as he rubbed his hair.

“I’m glad. It feels good to me too,” he said, the last part under his breath.

The steam made it all seem a little surreal, them being in the shower under the water together. Greg stepped back and the shampoo ran over his body in rivueles of water and John gulped and tried not to think too hard about it. Then Greg started to rub him down with body wash, and John shuddered just slightly as he did. His soapy hands seemed to be everywhere at once and it was all almost too much for John to handle. He let out a soft moan, and then looked guiltily away from Greg, blushing. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I am trying.”

For the first time instead of blushing at John’s moan Greg found himself smiling. He was happy that what he was doing pleased John especially after how complicated everything had been. Greg shook his head and pressed his still soapy finger to John’s lips.

“Shhh, just relax yeah?” he whispered and leaned it to kiss John lightly on the cheek. “Let me talk.”

He slowly spun John around to start washing his back. At first he said nothing and just watched the bubbles form and burst against the smooth tan skin under his finger tips. He couldn’t help musing over how perfect John’s body was.

“I, I think we’re never going to be just friends again,” he began his hands slowly moving down John’s back. ”I think whatever we have whatever is between us…it’s not just going to go away if we were to pretend these past few days never happened. I don’t think I want to either.”

His hands came to rest at John’s waist and he pulled him closer into a loose hug.

The only thing that kept John from sucking Greg’s finger was that it was covered in soap. He nodded slowly at Greg’s words, and resisted the temptation to kiss Greg full on the lips before he was turned around, and Greg’s hands were on his back.

He listened to what Greg had to say, and then Greg pulled him into a loose hug, John’s back against his front. John leaned back into him, and held his arms around him.

“I don’t want to just be friends, Greg,” he said quietly, knowing that this moment here in the shower was a bigger step then anything they’d done before. Not even the sex was bigger than this moment. This moment when they lay their hearts on the floor, as offerings to each other. “I want to savor this time with you. You.. You’re more than just a mate to me, you know.”

Greg nodded and laid an open mouthed kiss the junction between John’s neck and his shoulder.

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said softly.

His voice shook slightly as he admitted it, but as the words were finally said allowed he knew it was true. He and John would never just be friends because they would both always long for something more. It scared him, quite a lot, frankly, but he had to do this. Not for himself anymore, but for John. John deserved better than Greg had given him in not only the past few days, but in most of their friendship.

“I’m going to try…to not be such a prat,” he added.

John moaned just a little as Greg kissed his shoulder. He heard the nervousness in Greg’s voice, as he admitted that he didn’t just want to be friends. His heart swelled within him, and he loved him for wanting to make the effort.

He turned in Greg’s arms and looked him in the eyes. “You can be as much of a prat as you want as long as you don’t turn away from me again, alright?” John said quietly, before leaning in and kissing him on the lips gently, cradling his head in his hands, and stepping closer to him.

“I don’t want to be a prat to you though,” he muttered though he wasn’t sure John heard it or not.

The water was rushing down their bodies as John kissed him slowly stepping closer and in effect pressing his back to the chilled wall of the shower. He gasped not only from the cold by from the intensity of the kiss. Greg’s hands rested low on John’s hips in less of a grip, more just that they were there, and he needed to touch him. 

“I want to be…ya know…whatever you want me to be,” he muttered breathlessly pulling away from a moment to speak before going back in to kiss John again.

John had heard him, and he kissed him a little harder for it. He braced his hands on either side of Greg’s head and let him pull him a little closer. The water was beating down on his back and it, plus the pressure of Greg’s hands, and his mouth on John’s, made him shiver.

“I just want you,” John said, pressing himself against him to punctuate his point. He moved his mouth from Greg’s and pressed it to his shoulder. “I just want you, just the way you are, good days and bad days. Just don’t.. don’t hide it from me, okay?” he asked, pulling away to look him earnestly in the eyes again.

A soft hum resonated in the back of Greg’s throat as John pressed against him. Greg nodded his eyes meeting John’s dark ones hesitantly. He wasn’t good with sharing his feelings, one of the reasons his relationships often failed, but he was determined to try.

“I…I can try,” he muttered.

He ran his fingers through John’s hair thoughtfully before reaching for the shampoo and beginning to put it into John’s hair.

“When I’m done with your hair we can go to bed,” he said soothingly watching John’s face relax as he massaged his scalp.

“You’ll be fine,” said John, kissing his mouth again, before pulling back, and closing his eyes at the feel of Greg’s hand in his hair. While Greg massaged his head, he leaned into him, and closed his eyes to keep the soap out of his eyes.

He didn’t answer Greg in words, but he did smile and moan into his chest as he massaged his hair.

As he worked at John’s hair he began thinking again. He knew he should just stop…stop getting ahead of himself, but he was wondering about so many things. Did this mean they’d sleep in the same room together? Would they get a one bedroom flat eventually? What happened when John went into the service? These were only a few of the worries.

Greg didn’t know and it bothered him a bit, but he kept his mouth shut and just watched the contented look on John’s face as he washed his hair. When he was done he pushed John back under the water to rinse the soap out and then went to fetch them both a towel. After they’d dried off Greg slipped on a fresh pair of shorts and slumped down on his bed. 

Some of the things on Greg’s mind were on John’s mind as well. Mostly him going into the military in a couple of years. He’d promised Greg he wouldn’t leave, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. Doctors were desperately needed out in Afghanistan and Iraq. He was good at what he did, and he’d known all his life that he was going to go into the service when he turned 21. But now… Now was the first time he was having doubts. The rooming situation didn’t bother him. He was content with two bedrooms, to give them space if they did need it. But the military things really did bug him.

John let Greg push him back under the water, and rinsed off slowly, and then took the towel from Greg, and dried off, before padded over to Greg’s bed and rolling onto it, until he was against Greg’s side.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Greg shrugged. He pulled the duvet and sheets up over them cutting of the flow of cold air over his body.

“Nope,” he said.

He reached over to John and pulled him into a tight hug laying his head on the younger man’s chest. It was astounding how small John made him feel sometimes…even though he was older than John.

“That bad, huh?” John asked after Greg had covered them both with the blanket and curled up into him. John put his arm around him, and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask anymore,” he said, drawing circles on Greg’s shoulder.

In the morning Greg rolled out of bed slowly and sat at the edge for a moment as he got his bearings. The details of the night before all rushing back to him and his heart hurt because of what he had done to John. It didn’t matter that he had been forgiven. It mattered that he had done it. He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping form of the younger man and a small smile broke across his lips. Obviously he was still asleep.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss John’s cheek.

Greg went out to a take away cafe down the street and bought them breakfast -because he couldn’t cook for shit- which consisted of egg sandwiches and coffee. He didn’t really know what John at for breakfast seeing as he was usually asleep when John got up.

John woke up slowly, curled up in a ball, in Greg’s bed. Alone. He figured Greg had just gotten up before him, but given the conversation they’d had the night before, he didn’t want to think of any other possibilities. he stretched out in the bed, and he wished Greg was back with him. He didn’t want to text him, cause that would make him seem clingy. His first class wasn’t till later that afternoon though, so he had a lot of time to kill, and with Greg gone, that was going to be very dull.

He heard the door open, and smiled. He could smell the coffee. He curled back into a ball, and closed his eyes, and waited for Greg.

Greg entered his room and looked at the sleeping form on his bed. He set the things down on his side table and sat down on the edge of the bed. Before he had gone out he had dressed in a pair of nice jeans and a black long sleeved jumper. He leaned back against John and held the cup of coffee under his nose smirking.

“You know, if I ever knew anybody who was worse at fake sleeping….,” he chuckled. “I’d have been very mistaken. Get up, faker.”

He shook John lightly and sat back up. He waited patiently for the sandy blonde haired man to sit up and look at him through bleary eyes before handing him the coffee.

John felt Greg climb onto the bed and he groaned at him when he called his bluff, rolling over and staring up at him. “Oh fuck you,” he said happily taking the coffee from him, and sitting up, just to look at him.

He drank his coffee -prepared the way he liked it. No sugar, just milk.- and looked up at Greg. “Thanks for this,” he said, raising his cup up in his direction. “And I’m not that bad, you bastard.”

 

Greg grinned and licked his lips suggestively at John. 

“Oh I’m a bastard eh? I bring you coffee and food…and I’m a bastard. Hmm suppose you don’t need a good morning kiss them,” he snickered gleefully. 

He hopped up before John could protest and started looking about for his work clothes. It had been a rough few days but he would be needing to go back into work today once John left for class. Plus there was the other side of it where he assumed John would enjoy watching him change into his leathers. Just thinking like that made his stomach twist a little, but he ignored it. He was committing. No back doors or anything else. John was his boyfriend…where he was ready to say it aloud or not didn’t make it any less true.

John rolled his eyes, and was severely turned on by the sight of Greg’s tongue. Then Greg got up, and started to look for his clothes, and John just watched him. His boyfriend. This is so beyond wicked strange, he thought to himself, as Greg found his leathers, and started to change out of his very sexy black jumper. John hopped out of bed, after setting the cup of coffee on the night table, and walked over to him. He put his arm around his chest, effectively stopping him from getting changed, and kissed his bare shoulder. “Don’t be like that, Greg,” he murmured into his ear, grinning at the shiver that went through Greg’s body.

A grin tugged at Greg’s lips as he felt John’s arms around him. 

“Oh I’m only pressing your buttons, got to figure out what they do somehow,” he winked. 

Greg grinned wickedly, snatched up his clothes, and bolted for the bathroom all before John could move to go after him. 

“Now! Eat and get dressed for class! Don’t make me call your mum!” he joked from behind the bathroom door  
“You know exactly what they do,” said John grumpily, going back to the bed.

“Stupid fuck,” he muttered, then called to the bathroom, “I don’t have class till later. And fuck you, you’ve never called her on me before,” he said loudly, before drinking more of his coffee and eating one of the egg sandwiches. He stared at the bathroom door for a bit, thinking about going in there and kissing him. Rude. Not even a goodmorning kiss. What a guy, he thought to himself. Then a smiled crossed his face, and he looked around for Greg’s work boots. He saw them and snatched them up and quickly hid them. then he went back to bed, smiling happily and ate the rest of the egg sandwich, suddenly famished.

Greg was still chuckling when he left the bathroom. He found John sitting on his bed innocently eating the egg sandwich he had bought for him. Suspicion started to bubble in his stomach instantly, he knew that look, but he told himself nothing was up and went to go find his boots. If he didn’t have his boots he couldn’t go in to work because he couldn’t ride his bike. He spent nearly twenty minutes ripping his room and the rest of the flat apart looking for them. 

“God damn it, John Hamish Watson what’ve you done with my damn boots?!” he yelled stomping into his room like a child, only to find John in the same spot. “Spit it out.”  
John watched Greg’s face change from glee to curiousity when he came out of the bathroom. He walked out of the room after tearing through his wardrobe and the rest of the flat looking for his boots.

John grinned, he just couldn’t help it. “Hid them, of course,” he said, when Greg came back into the room, furious. “Give me a kiss, and I might tell you where they are, Gregory Lestrade,” he said, not hiding his flirtatious smile. He’d get him to kiss him, whether he had to tackle him or no. He hoped he’d just give in willingly. “Didn’t think I’d have to torture you to get a kiss,” he said, pouting a little. He knew he was being extremely juvenile, but he didn’t really give a fuck at this point.

“Torture? This is what the army calls torture?” Greg chuckled. “I may just be able to be a soldier then yet.” 

He licked his lips as he inspected the pout of John’s lips. It stirred something in him and he considered for a moment…maybe a quickie before he had to go to work. The thought of going into work just after a shag made him smirk as he crossed the room. Greg wrapped his arms around the slightly smaller man’s waist and dragged him by the hips until their cores were smashed together. He struggled with the smirk on his face as he leaned in and captured John’s lips in a lustful lip lock.   
A shot of pure lust rushed through John’s body at the view of Greg’s tongue running over that playful smirk. “No, it’s what I call.. Christ,” John yelped as Greg crossed the room and pulled them together, and their lower halves connected and John groaned in pure pleasure. Greg kissed him hard, and John managed a grin of success before giving himself over completely to him. He opened his mouth to him, and ground into him. The feeling was so nearly overwhelming, but he was going to hold on, for Greg. His arms went around him to pull him even closer, and he quickly worked at his leathers, needing them off, now.

Greg released John’s lips, and moved to start kidding his way up the younger man’s throat, dragging his tongue along the skin teasingly. 

“You know what my favourite torture game would be?” he hissed running a hand straight down John’s chest and dipping his fingers into the younger’s trousers. “I bet you’re just dying to know.”

He licked John’s earlobe as he thrust his hand into John’s shorts and grabbed hold of his mostly erect cock roughly. His fingers squeezed around it tightly to put a hindrance on the blood flow. 

“You know why you want to know?” he used his other hand to pull John’s shirt to the side and started kissing his collar bone.”Because next time I’m going to be using proper torture as punishment… And I’m sure we don’t want that.”  
John groaned as Greg teased his neck and hissed as Greg started in on his cock. His words in and of themselves were pure torture, and he bucked into Greg’s hand, the pain becoming pleasure very quickly.

Through his lust-filled haze, he managed to get Greg’s clothes off and away from him, and he grinned as he rolled his head back, giving Greg easier access to attack his neck. “Tell me, please, Greg,” he moaned, as the other man started to kissing and nip his collarbone, hand still tight on his cock. His hand tweaked Greg’s nipple and then trailed down his chest to his cock, and slipped into his shorts, and he rubbed just the tip of his leaking cock.

“Please, tell me,” he grinned as the other man hissed, and he captured his mouth again, hot and open, nipping his bottom lip hard.

He hummed delightedly against John allowing himself to be kissed and teased back with equal force, but then he removed his hand from John’s shorts. Greg grabbed both of John’s wrists and pinned them to the wall. His nails dug deep into John’s skin and he rolled his hips into John’s moaning softly. 

“My favourite torture game would include handcuffing you to a chair, putting a cock ring on you, and forcing an apology out of you before I even thought about letting you cum.”  
John moaned in frustration when Greg removed his hand, and then he was being pinned to the wall and John rolled his hips back up into Greg’s. He grinned at Greg’s moan, knowing this was agonising him too, just a little.

He gasped at Greg’s words and a wave of heat rushed through him, and he bucked against Greg’s hips, and tried to move his hands, wanting to touch Greg. “Greg, I had no fucking clue you were so interesting,” he said huskily. He captured his mouth again, kissing him roughly.

“I’d take that challenge.”

Greg growled and slammed against John pressing him flat to the wall. 

“I didn’t know you thought I was boring,” he hissed. 

He passed one of John’s wrists to his other hand -ignoring the fact his grip was only half as strong now- and pushed the button through on John’s trousers. His hand slid back into the younger man’s shorts and he used his pointer finger and thumb to squeeze tightly around John at his base in a simulation of what a cock ring would feel like. He knew he wasn’t pressing hard enough and was in fact being rather gentle as compared to what it actually was like, but he wanted John to be surprised when he actually did do it to him one day. 

“John are you sorry yet?” he cooed.  
John groaned as he was slammed into the wall.

“I don’t. Just… you fascinate me, Greg,” he said, closing his eyes, and gritting his teeth as Greg started to make his move. Then Greg slipped his hand into John’s shorts and gripped his base, and he cried out, and then bit his lip. He stared at Greg’s face, and smiled, then kissed him hard.

“No. Not sorry,” he smirked.

Greg glanced at the clock out of the corner of his eye and cursed. 

“Well unfortunately I don’t have time to make you tell me where my boots are so I’ll just borrow a pair off Mickey. I’ll see you when I get home and we’ll finish this then,” he said.  
John groaned when Greg said he had to go. “Fuck you,” he muttered and kissed him hard, pushing up against him, and then let him go and bounded into the bathroom and locked himself in.


	6. A Letter Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the worse.

Greg chuckled and left the flat wearing a scuffed up pair of trainers. When he got to the office Mickey loaned him a pair of boots for his bike and Greg went out on his usual rounds. His day went by slowly and the more he though of John the harder it was for him to not be distracted. By the end of the day he was beat and when he came into the office to drop off the last of the day it didn’t get any better. Greg’s boss was sitting at his desk waiting for him. He followed him to his office and was reamed for the better part of an hour about his attendance and performance. Apparently this was his last warning, before his employment was terminated. So he left work in a rubbish mood.

When he walked through the door to the flat it was nearly nine and he held a bag of take away, having assumed John would have waited for him. John had been answering his texts for the better part of the day so Greg had assumed he was just studying or something and would probably be tired. So no playing around tonight. Dinner, film, perhaps some playing, and then bed. He set the bag down on the kitchen table before going to his room to change.

As Greg pushed open his door though his heart stopped. He had his shirt off and was in the process of undoing his trousers but stopped dead in his tracks. John was curled up in a ball on his bed clutching something in his hands and crying.

John had showered in Greg’s room and taken care of himself, smiling a little that he was getting himself off in Greg’s room. He got a text from Mike, letting him know that one of his three classes was cancelled. He smiled and decided to walk to school. He was having a good day, despite the interrupted shag. He went to his classes, and had a pop quiz in Bio Chem, which he felt he did really well.

He lunched with Mike and Jane, a late lunch, and then left them to go back to the flat. He wasn’t sure when Greg was going to get home, but he didn’t want to miss him. On the way home, he stopped at the post office to check the post. He didn’t check it till he’d got home. He wished later that he hadn’t picked up the post at all.

There were a few bills, unimportant, a postcard from John’s brother Ryan, who was in training, and an official letter from the British Government letting him know that he was being drafted. He was to report to the draft office on Monday. His heart fell, and so did his spirits. His phone went off, and he didn’t check it. He didn’t have the heart to anymore. Fury rose in his heart, and in a fit of angry, he threw his phone at the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. He padded to Greg’s room, and threw himself onto the bed, curling up into a ball of pure misery. It was in this manner that Greg found him, quite a bit later, silent tears falling on his face. He heard him come in and stiffened, knowing that this would hurt him far more.

He stood there a moment. Greg had never done well with crying. He had also never seen John cry. It was more than a little bit strange to be standing there awkwardly in the door to his room watching the young man curled up into a ball, clutching the duvet, and sobbing. He knew there was something you were supposed to say in this situation; something along the lines of it’s alright, can I help, or the favourite are you okay? It was obvious though that if John was crying it was obviously notgoing to be alright, he likely couldn’t help, and John was certainly not okay.

After what felt like forever he finally kicked his stiff limbs into moving. He strode slowly across the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. Greg wanted to speak and possibly even comfort John, but the rawness around the young man’s eyes told him neither of them could fix it. Deep down the moment he saw him there Greg had known what was wrong, but his conscious mind had dismissed it as not being a possibility.

Slowly he reached out and took John’s hand. There was really nothing else he could think to do.

John felt Greg come and sit down on the bed. He didn’t move for a little while, and John knew that his tears were un-nerving him. Greg didn’t do emotion. John felt even worse now. Christ.

Greg took his hand, and John flinched, but squeezed his hand wordlessly.

“It couldn’t last, could it?” he said softly, after all his tears had fallen, and he had composed himself, still holding Greg’s hand.

That was it. The words that told him all he needed to know. John was leaving. Obvious. It was so obvious because of course the moment the young men were able to grow up and break their barriers this sort of thing would happen. Greg swallowed and turned himself so he was facing John.

“I won’t tell you it’s going to be okay because well I’m not vain enough to think I can tell the future and I care too much to lie,” he said softly.

He didn’t have the strength to say he didn’t know if he’d be able to wait, but if asked he knew he could try. Greg cupped John’s cheek and brushed his thumb lightly over the man’s raw red skin.

John closed his eyes and leaned into Greg’s hand. He swallowed, trying to keep the emotion inside, away where it couldn’t hurt Greg anymore than he already had to.

“I was supposed to have time. Time to finish… everything. I was fine with it, in a few years, but now…. How can I go?” John asked, finally looking at Greg’s face. “I have to go though,” he said, looking away again. He sighed. “Can we.. I dunno, just not talk about this now? Please?” he looked back up at Greg, begging with his eyes, if not with his words. He had just a few days with this amazing man, and he didn’t want to spend a moment more than they had to fighting.

Greg sighed and dropped his hand to the duvet to hold himself up. Listening to John talking about it was hard, but he remembered how only a week ago John had been ecstatic and couldn’t wait to go into the armed forces. He was going to be an army doctor. John was doing something with his life…and what was he doing? Dossing about as a delivery boy. He didn’t deserve John. 

“Yeah,” he muttered and swallowed and laid down slowly on the bed. “Later.”

He didn’t know what to say anyway. Nothing he had to say could change what was going to happen. Truthfully he didn’t even want to know when John was assigned to leave because some how he thought it would be better if he just woke up one morning and John was gone. Then he could wallow in self hatred, loneliness, and emptiness by himself and not drag John down with him. 

John watched Greg’s face, and his movements. He was hurting, and John was to blame. He’d’ve given anything to not hurt Greg this soon, and in this way. Greg lay down on the bed, and John laid down next to him, curled up into him.

He forced a smile, and started to say something about Greg’s promise to shag him when he got home, but the comment died on his lips, because he remembered another promise, one that he’d made to Greg, that he wouldn’t leave for as long as he could manage it. A shot to the heart, that was, and he kissed Greg’s bare chest. He wished he could read Greg’s mind, so much, figure out what he was thinking. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Greg’s lips, and then he curled back up next to Greg on the bed, his fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

“Just go to sleep,” Greg muttered.

He drew John up close to his chest and knitted his fingers into John’s hair. His eyes were squeezed shut as he attempted to push back all his feelings and kissed the top of John’s head. Then he said it, he didn’t want to, but it came out like a last hope in an attempt to comfort John.

“It’ll be okay.”

John appreciated the effort Greg was making to comfort him. His fingers in his hair did more to comfort John than his words did, only because John had a growing feeling that it actually wasn’t going to be okay. Never again would it be “okay”. He sighed, and fell asleep in Greg’s arms, holding him tightly.

The next morning, John woke up to an empty bedroom. He swallowed, and sat up, and looked around for evidence that Greg was still at home. It was Thursday. He had 4 days left of freedom, before he had to go to basic training. He sighed, and moved to the edge of the bed, and put his feet on the floor. Progress. He heard movement in the flat, and figured Greg was getting breakfast for himself before work. He sighed, and pulled on his jeans and didn’t put on his shirt, and padded out to the main room. Sure enough, there was Greg, making his coffee.

 

“Morning,” he said softly. He wanted to tread carefully around him, not sure if his semi-optimistic attitude was going to last.

Greg sat at the kitchen table drinking his coffee staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He didn’t know what to do and yet he had woke up this morning and automatically gone to make coffee like he was programmed. His life was just that programmed. Would it crash without John? He wondered, but he just didn’t know. 

His fingers flexed angrily around the cup. He didn’t understand why. Why the hell did this have to happen? It made his throat close up to think about John leaving.

Then the voice broke his daze and he glanced up to see John standing there in a pair of jeans and nothing else. His heart twisted. Would it be tomorrow? The next day or next week that he woke up to make his coffee and John wouldn’t be there to greet him?

“Morning,” he replied gruffly.

John could tell that Greg had been thinking, and that he wasn’t happy about whatever he was thinking about. Therefore, he was thinking about John’s leaving, and John winced. He walked over into the kitchen and poured himself his own cup of coffee, and sat down next across from Greg, watching him carefully.

“How… how did you sleep?”John asked, trying to take a safe path with his questions. He wanted to take Greg’s hand, kiss his cheek, hold him, do something. He felt like time was slipping away from them all too fast.

John sat down across from him and immediately Greg thought about leaving that would be childish though. He didn’t really care much about how mature he was acting. The young soldier’s eyes were on him and he could almost hear his thoughts and movements all being mentally dissected by the younger of the two. Greg sighed. He didn’t meet John’s eyes as he spoke to him. 

“Ahhh fine, yeah I slept fine,” he muttered. “Have to leave in ten.”  
John could feel the tension in the room. Greg’s brush off hurt like hell, and he drank some of his coffee. He still hadn’t looked at him.

“Will you be home? Tonight I mean?” he asked, trying to remain in control of his emotions. He didn’t want to be the overly dramatic boyfriend, weeping over the slightest problem. But this wasn’t slight. This was big. And John hated himself for it.

“Dunno. May stop round my mum’s for dinner,” he said.

That was a lie. A blunt faced lie that Greg hardly felt the need to hide. He didn’t get along with his mum so every time he say he was having dinner at hers it was a 95% chance plus that he’d be at a pub drowning himself in whiskey. The few times Greg allowed himself to be ruled by emotion that was where and how it ended up. Always.  
John winced when Greg said he was going to his mum’s. He didn’t know where he went, but it was never to his mother’s house. And he always came back sloshed and angry, usually, unless he didn’t come home at all. Those times, he came back late in the morning, just long enough for coffee and a shower. John hated it. He hated it now more than he did before, now that there was the very distinct possibility that Greg would end up shagging someone else, even Mary that night, instead of spending their last few days together.

He shook with anger, and sorrow, and fury, and he got up suddenly from the table and walked over to the sink and threw his mug into it so hard that it shattered. He didn’t care though, and merely walked into his room. He didn’t close the door, but merely pulled out his dad’s army rucksack and started to pack things. He didn’t see most of what he threw into the bag, through the veil of tears that was threatening to spill from his eyes. His heart was ached, and he wanted to yell, to scream, to punch things, but he would wait for all of that till after Greg left. He mentally ticked off one more day in his mind… one less day to spend with him.

Greg could see John shaking with anger. Of course he had made the connection a long time ago between Greg’s excuse of going to his mum’s and him coming in drunk. Never before had John gotten so worked up.

Yeah, well before you weren’t his boyfriend and before he wasn’t being forced to leave for military training, his conscience snapped at him.

He was violently shaken from his thoughts by the crash of ceramics against metal and the coffee mug John had been holding was shattered in the sink. Greg blinked and watched John storm off down the hall to his room.

Good job you’ve done it again, added his conscience rudely.

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He could hear John banging around in his room and knew he should go talk to him, but what would he say? Nothing. There’s nothing you can say, he thought bitterly. John was leaving no matter what. If they made up he was leaving and if they kept fighting; John was still leaving.

Greg got to his feet.

“I’ll see you,” he shouted and started pulling on his boots for work.

Quickly Greg scribbled out a note and placed it on the kitchen counter. He didn’t bother trying to talk to John while he was like this.

The Note read:

I hope you’re still here when I get in. We need to talk.

-Greg

John heard his call, and ignored it. He was hurting, and he knew he was showing it, but fuckdamnit this was annoying. He heard boots on the floor, and the door slam, and he threw the rucksack onto his bed, and looked around for something to break, anything to break. He saw a lamp and threw that against the wall, and then he screamed his frustration, until he had no more words or air left.

He collapsed on his bed, and didn’t move for a very long time. When he woke up again, he’d missed his one class of the day, so he took a long shower, and dressed in a jumper and jeans, not thinking through his choices. But looking down at himself, he saw that he was wearing a jumper Greg had bought him a couple Christmases again. “Fuck!” he yelled to the empty flat, but he didn’t change. He walked out to the kitchen and saw the note. He crumpled it up and left the flat, needing some air. He figured he had a good few hours to walk and think before Greg was even close to getting home.

He walked, and walked, and walked, and everywhere he walked, he saw Greg. He saw Greg on his delivery route. He saw Greg at the pub. He saw Greg at the post office. None of them were actually Greg, but it was driving him insane, so he decided to head back to the flat earlier than had been expected. He got takeaway on the way home, enough for two, though he figured Greg wouldn’t want to eat if he came home. He walked back to the flat, and sat in the living room, telly on, but not hearing or seeing it, lost in thought.

Greg was flustered. He had been all day, on top of that he had been running behind, and most of his deliveries all day were anywhere from ten to twenty minutes late. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and started unzipping his leather jacket as he walked down the hall to the flat. Greg wasn’t sure he was ready to face John, but there really was no avoiding it. Even if he wanted to go out to a pub or something he’d have to change first. At the door he stopped a moment before hesitantly unlocking it and walking inside.

John heard the door being unlocked, but didn’t look up from his blank stare at the telly. Greg was probably just stopping in on his way to go get shagged senseless by some blonde sexpot, and John had despised that thought. He thought about getting drunk, but decided he’d wait till Greg stopped in, and talk with him, since he seemed to feel the need to talk. Greg walked in, and John looked over at him, and then back to the telly, not saying a word. He wanted Greg to make the first move.

Greg shuffled his feet for a moment as he debated what to do. He did want to talk to John, but he didn’t want to face the fact that no matter how much taking they did that John was still leaving. Finally he stepped out of his boots and shrugged off his jacket. Then he stood there in his leather trousers and under shirt watching John ignoring him. It bothered him, likely more than it ought to, but he couldn’t help it. Greg took a deep breath and strode over to John. He room the remote to click off the telly and sat down on the coffee table in front of him. Something in John’s face just looked dead and empty like he’d had trouble waking up that morning. Greg knew he had. 

It took him a minute but finally he was able to form the one worded question. 

“When?”  
Greg stood at the door for a long time, it seemed to John, and then he took off his outer layers, leaving on his leather trousers and shirt. John still didn’t look at him other than out of his peripherals. Then Greg walked over to where he was sitting at turned off the telly and sat in front of him, basically forcing him to look him head on. He sat there, just looked at him for a moment, before asking him the question he’d been dreaded since he’d opened the letter.

“I have till Monday morning,” he said, looking away from Greg, preparing himself for a hit, a kick, screaming, yelling, anything that Greg could throw at him. This was killing him, and he knew it was killing Greg too, though he would’ve admit it till John was already gone - and that was what killed him the most.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, knowing it wouldn’t make it any better.

"Isn’t your fault, it’s the bloody government this is,” he growled. 

Greg found himself struggling to restrain his anger and stop himself from breaking everything in sight. The coffee cup on the table next to him seemed like a brilliant place to start, but he had to push down that urge. He couldn’t expect John to be the grown up all the time and Greg knew John couldn’t handle it right now. A loud sigh passed his lips. 

“I hope you enjoy it.”  
John could tell from those words, that Greg was struggling with a lot of angry, and a lot of rage, at the people who were going to make John leave him. He was almost glad he was holding back, but he wished more that he’d throw something, anything really. Then Greg wished him well, and John broke.

“Why the fuck aren’t you more angry about this?” he asked, jumping up. “I’m breaking every promise I just made to you, the past few days, and now, you want me to enjoy the military? “

He didn’t care that he was acting like a petulant child. He wanted to see Greg’s really feelings on the matter, he needed Greg to be real with him.

Greg watched John jump to his feet and start flailing his arms. Childish. John was being rather childish, but then again he supposed the younger man was making up for all the anger Greg wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow himself to show. He was angry. He wanted to scream and shout, but there was no use. In the end no matter how angry either of them got at each other or the government the letter was still there and he still had to go.

“John, I’m not a child,” he said coolly. “And neither are you. We’re both adults and we ought to act like adults yeah? Fact of the matter is I was silly to make you promise that when I knew you would be going eventually.”

When John didn’t sit back down and just stood there still shaking with rage Greg glared at him. 

“Sit the fuck down.”

How is he being so cool about this? Why isn’t this killing him? John thought to himself. Why couldn’t he just admit that this was tearing him apart? Unless…… As Greg spoke, John sat without another word.

Dread and doubt began to stir in his heart. What if the past few days…. hadn’t meant anything to him? Despite his words, did Greg really care at all, or was he just an experiment, something to keep him from being bored, something to keep him entertained…. John sighed, and didn’t look up. He did not want to voice his thoughts, especially if they weren’t true at all, and he was just hurting himself. But Greg had just said he was foolish for making him promise… did that mean he hadn’t wanted him at all? Or…. John sighed again, and looked back up at Greg. He wanted to speak, but he knew no matter what he said, it would be the wrong thing. He could plead for forgiveness, he could walk over and kiss him, he could yell some more, or even just walk out, and get stone drunk until Monday, but instead, he just sat there.

“Fine. We’ll be adults,” John said slowly, putting a mask on reluctantly, a mask of complete emotionlessness.

Greg sighed and rubbed his temples thoughtfully. He didn’t quite meet John’s eyes. It was tearing him apart. What was he supposed to say or do? The last relationship Greg had had…bloody hell he couldn’t really remember it. He swallowed and looked up at John.

“You’re not good at feigning that you don’t care,” Greg said. I wish I was as transparent. “John, I know it’s hard…and I know it sucks, but there isn’t anything we can do about it. You signed up for this before any thing ever happened between us…this is your life John and I will not allow you to fuck it up because of me. On Monday you will report for duty and act just like you should. Make me proud, yeah?”

He paused and looked down again. Greg wanted John to go, just as much as he wanted him to stay, it was John’s life and John could make something of himself. He couldn’t. The best job he would get was likely to be what he had right now and that frightened him, but he didn’t want John to know that. He didn’t want John to worry about him. He had already decided what he was going to tell John, even though it was all a lie.

“You’re going to be the best damn doctor they have because you can do it and I am going to be going back to uni for…well I don’t know yet, but when you get back we’ll work everything out,” he said.

Greg hated this. He hated lying to John. Not all of it was a lie though because he did believe in John…just the rest of it was because when John returned -whether it be a year or five years- Greg refused to allow him to bring John down. John would do great things and he was just going to be a delivery boy for the rest of his life.

“I know,” John said, emotion showing through his eyes, though he didn’t let it through in his voice. He clenched his fist, a habit he’d had for a long time, when he was trying to hold back what he was feeling. Greg’s words both encouraged him and broke him, and he fought the urges to laugh and cry. “I will try.”

Greg’s face was what got him. He was struggling with this. With all of it, with John’s leaving and what would become of him. John wanted to go and hold him tightly and tell him that it was all going to work out, that when he came back, they’d be together again, or at least, that it would work out somehow.

“You’ll go back to school?” John asked, trying to find something that wouldn’t make him break down and cry, or yell. He was fighting for every inch of sanity he could cling to. But perhaps if he let himself go mad, the army wouldn’t want him. Of course, Greg wouldn’t want him either. He was growing more and more certain of that. His heart was broken, lying on the floor similar to the mug lying shattered in the sink. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of all of this.

Greg nodded. John was still upset, but at least he had agreed to trying; that was all Greg really wanted. He knew John could be the best, but even if he just tried Greg would be happy.

“I,” he paused. It’s a lie, of course he asks about the bloody fucking lie.“Yep…not anywhere expensive or notable -you know my mum won’t pay for me to go back to school- so I’m just pulling out student loans or something….dunno yet.”

John swallowed and nodded. He wasn’t sure if he quite believed Greg, but he would try, and he would think of him happy, when he was gone, or he might just do something stupid, and childish, and hurt himself out there, and he would disappoint Greg, and as much as this was killing him, he never wanted to disappoint Greg.

He leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes. He had to ask, he knew he did, but he had to know. “So that’s it then? We’re through, before we even started,” he said shortly, swallowing the emotion in his voice. This was pointless, and ridiculous, but he had to know.

Greg had moved to stand up. He hadn’t been sure if he was going to get coffee or if he was going to hide out in his room for the next three days, but John’s words stopped him. His back was still facing John and his face contorted painfully with the rage and sadness he felt.

“Don’t you dare say it like that,” he muttered. “Don’t you dare say it like we didn’t know this was going to happen. We both knew. We both knew you were going to have to go eventually. WE both bloody knew all along it wouldn’t last forever.”

He turned round.

“Nothing does.”

Greg stopped in his tracks, and his shoulders hunched, and John watched him, and heard the rage in his voice. When Greg turned and looked at him, John saw the sadness in his eyes. And yet he pressed on, not able to control himself any longer.

“Going to happen, yes, we knew that. But … so soon. Don’t you feel anything?” John asked, knowing he’d regret it. He wanted to just curl up. He’d had such hopes for them, even with the military in his future. He’d wanted so much for them to have just.. a little happiness, but it just wasn’t to be, and even now in these last few days, he had a feeling, that it was only going to go downhill from here. There would be no more shagging, no more back rubs, no goodbye kiss. Not even a fond look. No, John was dying inside, and he had to know if Greg felt anything even close to what he was feeling at that moment.

Greg stared John in the face. The tears filling the young soldier’s eyes were sobering and he wanted more than anything to sweep him into his arms and tell him it had all been a lie. He wanted to tell John he’d be there waiting for him when he got back, but he couldn’t. John was going places and Greg wasn’t.

“I,” he stopped and slid his hands into his pockets. “No, John. I don’t. You’re going to have the future you deserve…so no. I can’t be angry.”

With that he turned on his heel and stalked down the hall to his room and slammed the door shut. Greg locked the door and slid down against it slow. He pulled his knees up to his chest and sobbed. Silently he sobbed for hours.

He’s gone. He ….. he just left.

John sat, stone cold in the armchair, staring towards Greg’s door, his heart aching. He desperately wanted to follow him, throw himself at his feet, and plead with him, but he knew he’d brought all of this on himself.

In a fit of anger, he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the flat, and out onto the street. It had started to rain, and John fought the urge to scream out his frustration while there were so many people about. He thrust his hands into his pockets and started to walk, lost in thought, not seeing anyone or anything.

Ironically, his footfalls led him to the pub where they had really started. He went to the bar, and ordered heavy liquor, and did not stop drinking for hours. He spoke to no one, and was thrown out of the pub at nearly dawn, and he stumbled home, letting himself into the flat and as he walked past Greg’s door, he was sorely tempted to go into him, and fall asleep next to him, where everything was right in the world. But no, he did not. He went to his own room, and passed out on his bed, but not before crying until his tears could no longer flow.


	7. The Morning of, and Hopeful Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come for John to ship out, and Greg has to say goodbye.

Greg and John seemed to be like two same ends of a magnet all of a sudden. They lived in the same flat and all, but no matter how hard you pushed them together one always slipped off to the other side; well that’s how it was for the next few days. He went to work, came home, went to his room, locked the door, drank till he couldn’t think straight, and repeat. Until Monday morning. 

Monday morning Greg woke up two hours earlier than he normally would have and went to sit in the kitchen. There was a pad of paper and a pen sitting on the table staring at him and taunting at him. It dared him to write the note. Greg had read John’s letter so he knew what gate he would be at in the airport and everything, but still it was difficult. Finally he picked them up and began writing.

> _John,_
> 
> _I’m sorry. I’m a thousand times sorry and there’s no excuse for what I said. I miss you John. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you._
> 
> _Look for me at the airport…I’m coming to say goodbye, whether you want my goodbye or not._
> 
> _-Greg_

He tore the sheet off and stuffed it under John’s door. Greg then went and took a shower. He didn’t bother eating once and he was dressed he left. Work didn’t start for another few hours so he found himself content to just drive around the city. At nine he went into work and did his usual route until almost five when he went back to the office and asked off. His boss was skeptical, but when he explained that his best friend, John, was being shipped off to Afghanistan his boss agreed.

So Greg hopped on his bike, checking his watch, he was already late and sped off through traffic to the airport. 

The weekend couldn’t go by fast enough for John. Of course, in another sense, it went by too quickly. He quick himself into a stupor every day, and stayed in his food, barely coming out for food. He showered once, on Sunday night, and threw the bottles of leftover alcohol out the window of his bedroom. He started packing Sunday night as well, taking care to only pack things that would not remind him of Greg. That was incredibly hard to do, since all that he had now reminded him of Greg, and he hated that he was so weak, to let himself care so much, that for just a few days he’d thought he’d figured it all out.

He slept for only a few hours and woke to hear the door closing, as Greg left for work. He checked the clock, and saw that it was a little early for Greg to be leaving, but he also knew that they’d done just about everything they could to avoid each other the past few days. He took a longer than normal shower, and shaved, and as he did, he looked himself in the eyes. Dark circles, empty eyes, and a soul that was broken. Perfect material for the military to mold the perfect soldier. Greg had been right. This was what he was born to do. He hadn’t realised how right he was until this very moment.

He dressed, and grabbed his pack to leave it by the door. He had to go and sign out at Uni, and then he’d come back and …. He stopped, seeing the paper on the floor, in Greg’s familiar handwriting. He stooped to pick it up, and read it over quickly, and his heart seemed to beat again for the first time in far too long.  _He was coming to see him off. He was coming to say goodbye._

The rest of the day passed far too slow for John. He went to the office at the university to turn in his notice. He went home, for the last time, and grabbed his things. He wrote a note for Greg, and nearly left it on his bed, but ended up taking it with him. He’d just give it to him at the airport. He left his flat with one last look around, and then caught a cab to take him to the airport. On the way, he wished he hadn’t thrown his phone at the wall, so he could text Greg the location of his gate.

He arrived at the airport early, and checked in with his commander, and then put his things with the rest of the packs and went to wait for Greg.

\---

Greg was speeding. He was late. He was  **so**  late and he had to get there before John left. They didn’t have mobiles on bases and besides John had crushed his so it wouldn’t matter anyway. He was taking a turn at a red light when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a large quickly moving object. He only had a second to wonder why they hadn’t stopped, that lane had a red light, before the sharp impact that sent him flying. Greg’s hands clung to the handle bars of his bike even as he felt his fingers slipping he realized he’d forgot his helmet. A split second later he was skidding across the ground his leathers making loud screaming noises as they ripped and he could see the blood on the pavement pooling around where his head impacted the ground. Then everything was black.

\---

> _Dear Greg,_
> 
> _I was so happy to know you, and even before I told you how I felt, I was in love with you._ _I never told you that, but now you’ll know. Thank you for being you, and for staying with me, even though I can be a right prick sometimes._
> 
> _Wait for me. I’ll come back._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _John Watson._
> 
> John read over his words over and over as he waited for Greg to show up. He was late. John knew his delivery job was lengthy, but he’d promised to show up.  _He’d promised._

“Watson. Let’s go,” a gruff voice said, and John looked up startled. “Sir, my roommate is on his way. I promised that I wouldn’t leave till he came,” he said, standing at attention. His commander gave him a smile. “Son, I know it’s difficult to go. We can wait a few more minutes.” John saluted him, and sat back down, staring at the door, willing Greg to come through.  _Please, don’t … don’t have forgotten,_ he thought to himself.

Nearly an hour later, his new commander stood over him. “Watson, time to go. I’m sure your buddy’ll understand.” John looked up at him, and nodded slowly, and folded the letter to Greg and put it in his jacket. Maybe he could post it from the base. He took one last look at the gate, and saw no one, not even a security guard. He swallowed his emotions, and put on his mask, and boarded his flight out.


	8. Time Goes By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after everything went black.

It was a month later that Greg woke up in a bed. The bed was soft and rather spongy which was confusing for him because he didn’t think his bed was spongy…was it? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was his head hurt. Slowly he opened his eyes to the blinding light of the room to see he was in a hospital.

“Well good morning sleepy man,” said a chipper looking nurse with bright red hair.

He blinked at her.

“What am I doing here?” he asked.

“You sir, have been in a coma for almost a month. Took a real good fall off your bike and had the bloke who hit you been driving a few miles faster your head would’ve just exploded on impact kiddo. You are one lucky boy,” she said conversationally.

Greg stared at her soaking up the information. Suddenly flashes of the car, flying through the air, hitting the ground, and where had he been so late to? He never forgot his helmet. He rubbed the side of his face in frustration. Why couldn’t he remember.

“You may be experiencing some memory loss kiddo, I’ll have to go get the doctor and let him know you’re awake,” she said.

As he sat there in the silent room Greg couldn’t help the itching feeling he was forgetting something that was  _very important_. Then Mary burst through the door and nearly tackled him.

“OH MY GOD~! You’re okay!” she was crying.

He gave her a confused look. What the hell was going on.

“I missed you so much baby,” she squealed. 

“Baby?” he asked.

Her eyes started watering.

“Y-you forgot? It’s our three month anniversary next week,” she said.

What the hell was going on? Wasn’t Mary just his occasional shag? When had he started dating her? Had he really lost that much of his life?  

 

\---

 

[A Year Later]

“Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, atten-HUH!” called the commander, and John and his regiment stood at attention. They were at base, about to ship out on a mission. John had finished his doctor’s training in the time he’d been on base, and was well ready to start active duty, but his regiment had been detained. Now, though, they were finally being sent out on active duty, and John was excited. Greg’s letter, unsent, was buried in his pack, under some extra socks, and he’d quite forgotten about him, except at night, when he dreamed. But usually, he woke up before he was ever able to disturb anyone with his cries.

They started to load up, after receiving their instructions, and John ended up sitting next to a nice blonde orderly. He smiled and shook his hand. “John Watson, field surgeon,” he said in way of introduction. The man, who looked to be only a few years older than John himself, smiled. “Murray. Murray Jones, orderly. You and I will be working a lot together, Doctor Watson.” The men smiled at each other, and began to chat, and tell each other their medical backgrounds.

 

\---

 

At first Greg hadn’t really understood how he and Mary had become a couple, but the way she told it he had just asked her out out of the blue -which wasn’t like him. Strangely enough the more she was around the more he got used to her. He didn’t really like putting up with her bitch fits that seemed to happen whenever he upset her, but most times she was tolerable enough…enjoyable sometimes. They were together for over a year before he moved in with her. Mary was four years younger than himself and her whole family were very devout catholics so when she got pregnant the two were pressured into getting married. He had been hesitant, but knew there was no way he could abandon the child. Greg had always wanted a family anyway and he doubted he’d have another chance.

So they were married in the fall at Mary’s parents' house. It was four months after the birth of their daughter Grace. The whole back yard had been a vision of pink tinsel and flowers. There was so much pink it kind of made Greg want to throw up, but he stomached it through the ceremony and even through the reception which was also at her parents' house. After the reception started though Greg didn’t remember much of the night and all the pink tinsel and flowers blurred into one big glob. All he knew was he woke up the next morning in bed with Mary and to the sound of Grace crying. They never went on a honeymoon.

The next few years were alright for the two as Greg settled into an office job at the police station, which he had been lucky to get, and Mary as a Secretary for some high powered businessman. Greg never once remembered John. Well he remembered John, but he didn’t remember what was important…that last few weeks before the accident when everything changed. For all he knew John had died in the war, but nobody ever gave him any news so he assumed his old friend was doing just fine. In fact Greg was rather confident in John and was sure he was doing very well in his job or at least that was what he told himself to keep from writing John. He never really understood why he had such strange urges to call up his old mate and have a chat or write him a letter. All Greg knew was the strange dreams he would have every now and then where John would grab him and kiss him or they would be lying together in his bed at the old flat. None of it really made sense.

Then Toby was born and Greg got a promotion. He wasn’t around the house as much so he never noticed as Mary started to slip away. The two had never had a very air tight marriage anyway, but it was more severe. Greg had for a time thought he was in love with her, but as he started to as the years passed realized Mary wasn’t at all in love with him, his heart broke. All Greg ever really wanted was to be loved. He never was able to admit it to himself when he was young, but he wanted to love someone and be loved back. So Greg threw himself into his work and did everything he could for his children because they loved him no matter what and he felt the same about them. He allowed Mary to slip through his fingers in those few years before he met Sherlock Holmes so when the consulting detective threw his shit marriage in his face it only stung minimally.

 

\---

John served with that same regiment for the entirety of his career in the service. He went to serve in Australia, in Iraq, and in Afghanistan, where he was stationed the majority of the time. He and Murray did work together quite a lot, and they got on quite well as well.

It took John quite a few years to get up the courage to ask Murray out for a drink in a local village. He was pleasantly surprised how fast Murray said yes. They got on even better after a few drinks, and when Murray kissed him, John let him.

They took it slow, treading carefully, not wanting the report of their relationship to spread amongst the regiment. Their trysts were usually at a local hotel, not wanting to take any unnecessary precautions. John never wanted to admit it, but he’d begun to feel things for Murray that he’d never thought he’d feel again. Murray never asked him any questions. He knew from what John had told him, that he was missing someone back home, but he was happy to just be the one who held him when he needed to be held.

After nearly 15 years in the service, he and Murray were shipped to a particularly active area of the war. They spent 3 years in the trenches, carrying injured and dead out of the battlefields of Afghan.

They were sent to the trenches on an injury run, when a shell went off nearby, and Murray forced John down. John looked up at him. He’d been in battle before, but he’d not been expecting the fire so close to the trenches. He grabbed his rifle and peeked over the wall and then he was shoved out of the way as a long stream of gunfire shot by, and his shoulder flamed in pain, and he cried out. Red bloomed behind his eyes, and he winced as he felt the blood start to trickle down his shoulder. “Doctor down! Medic down!” he heard voices, and then he felt a pair of arms pick him up from where he was lying on the ground and he was carried to the medic van, and then the arms were gone, and a in a soft brush of lips to his temple another scatter of gunfire rattled in his ears and he blacked out as he heard the men called out “Medic down!” again.

He never saw Murray again. He woke up on a military hospital a few weeks later, and his shoulder was aching, as was his heart. After months of therapy, and a year of rehab in the country, he was sent back to his sister in London.

 

\---

Greg had been working on a particularly puzzling suicide case…well not suicides, murders that appeared to be suicides. He had been putting off calling Sherlock in as long as he could, but had finally relented and stopped by the consulting detective’s new flat earlier that day. As it was he was currently standing in the prep room of the run down buildng where they had found the latest victim. It looked like she was a married woman, obviously in the media, in her mid to late thirties. Still they could find no connection. In fact Greg was sure there was no connection and that this was a random serial killer which made it all the more difficult to figure out who was behind ti all. 

“You’ve called  _him_ again haven’t you?” commented Anderson icily.

“Would you shut it?” he snapped crossing his arms. 

Greg really didn’t feel like dealing with Anderson’s bile about his decisions. He was the leader of the team and if he chose to call Sherlock in then that’s what would be done and Anderson needed to learn to shut his trap about it. 

“I just care about solving this case, we don’t need more people dying,” he said sharply.

Anderson said nothing and headed for the door.

“You can have fun dealing with the prat then.”

\---

John followed his new flatmate into a cab, after being warned that it “might be dangerous.” The past few days had been a whirlwind, after running into good old Mike Stamford, and catching up over a late lunch. Mike had grinned at the idea that John couldn’t find a flatmate, and in the next hour, John Watson had met Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective.

From there, John had moved out of his flat on the outskirts of London, and into the heart of London, on Baker St, number 221b. John had been settling in when Sherlock had gotten the call about a series of murders. He’d left John behind at first, but then had come back for him, warning him that it might be dangerous. John’s heart had leapt at the possibility of danger. Life on his own back home had been behind dull, and his therapist despaired of him ever returning to normal and get rid of his psychosematic limp.

They arrived at the crime scene, and John was introduced to Sergent Sally Donovan, one of the biggest cunts he’d probably ever met, as well as a forensic scientist named Anderson. Sherlock made a deduction about them that shocked John as well as made him want to laugh uproariously. He followed Sherlock into the building to meet with the D.I. who was in charge of the case.

“This is D.I. Lestrade, one of the heads of the crime division at Scotland Yard,” said Sherlock, in a way that John assumed was quite uncharacteristic of the man, who even at a glance didn’t much care for people. John nodded at him. He hadn’t quite caught the last name, but even so, there was something really quite familiar about the man, who was now lecturing Sherlock on crime scene etiquette.

Greg was surprised when Sherlock walked into the room -just as he had started suiting up- not because Sherlock was there, but because Sherlock had someone with him. He didn’t quite catch it as Sherlock introduced him to the male. The male who looked so extremely familiar that he almost thought he knew him. He was about to shake the man’s hand, but dropped his own back to his side and stared.

“Yo-You’re John Watson,” he uttered softly. “I-I haven’t seen you since before you went into the service…”

He obviously left out the part about them being best mates, sharing a flat, and the strange dreams Greg often had about him.

The D.I. went to shake John’s hand and then he dropped his hand and stared at him. John looked at him curiously, and tried desperately to recall the name Sherlock had given him. The D.I. spoke and mentioned before John’s service, and the way he said his name….. John nearly gasped, and he clutched his cane a little tighter. His breathing seemed to have become far more laboured, and he wished he had some kind of control over it.

“Lestrade… Greg… Greg Lestrade. Christ,” he muttered, looking at his old roommate, emotions flooding back to him. He wanted to hug him, but he also wanted to slug him. Neither of which were proper behaviour for a crime scene. Crime scene… John shook off his emotions, and focused on Sherlock again, who was calling him over to look at what he’d found. John’s mind was working over time, so many questions..

Greg was puzzled by John’s reaction. It was like John was seeing someone whom he cared much more deeply for than the simple friendship the two had had while sharing their flat. He furrowed his brow and frowned a bit. What was up? Why was John acting so strange?  
  
“Yeah mate it’s me. Long time no see,” Greg said rubbing the back of his neck. “Er how’ve you been? I thought you were still over somewhere getting shot at.”  
  
John didn’t have time to answer him though before Sherlock was off on his string of deductions and ramblings.

“John,” said Sherlock, and John realized he’d been asking him a question about the victim. John quickly gave his opinion, and then Sherlock went off on another one of his rants and deductions, which ended with his asking where the victim’s case was, her pink case. Greg looked at Anderson, who shrugged, and then Lestrade spoke up. “There was no case.” Sherlock muttered to himself and then he yelled something about mistakes, and ran out of the building, leaving John behind with a very confused Lestrade. “Is he always like that?” John managed to ask, forcing himself not to ask anything else until a better time.

  
 A case? He didn’t recall there ever being a case. “There wasn’t a case was there?” he asked Anderson.   
  
The forensics specialist rolled his eyes but answered with a simple shake of his head. Greg turned his attention back to Sherlock who was off on another tangent about the case; where it was, how he knew there was one, what colour it was, the size, how it could only be an over night bag, and etc. Greg listened intently though he only caught every few words. It wasn’t a minute before Sherlock was off running down the stairs still yelling up at them. Greg sighed and leaned against a wall it wasn’t until he spoke that Greg recalled John was there. He looked over at John with a bit of a tired stare and nodded.  
  
“Pretty much always,” he said. “unless he’s bored. Then he’s just frightful.”

Puzzlement filled Greg’s face, and John was hurt. Again. Why.. what had happened? He’d forgotten. He looked Greg over, and saw the changes in him over the years. He was far less vibrant than he had been, and …… then he saw the wedding ring. He was married. John wondered to who.

He leaned back on the wall, and sighed. “Well, I suppose I should go then. Um…. do you, I mean,” John stuttered a little. “Do you have a mobile? I…. well, we ought to get together. Talk. About… life,” he said, wanting to say us. Bad idea. He kept his mask on though. No one could see through his mask now.

Greg watched John struggling for words. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what was wrong with him. Had he upset John? He tried to think of anything he’d said that could upset the man. It worried him a little bit because John had once been his best mate and he didn’t want to put him off straight away.

“Yeah, I’ll text you and we can go for dinner and drinks sometime next week,” he said.

Greg and John exchanged mobile numbers. Then John went on his way and Greg went back to work. 


	9. Drinks and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg asks John to a pub to catch up on what he doesn't remember.

It wasn’t until nearly the end of the next week that Greg did get around to texting John. He wondered why John hadn’t texted him, they had  _exchanged_  numbers. He supposed it didn’t matter though. It was half ten on Thursday night and Greg was sitting at a pub. He had only just got off work.

_Hey, I’m at a pub not far from Baker Street if you want to join me? -GL_

He was sure to tack on the pub’s name at the end as well as that he was sitting at the bar. Greg settled in at the bar with his drink and thought about popping out for a smoke, but he didn’t want to miss John. So he stayed put.

“Waiting for someone tonight Greg,” asked the friendly woman behind the bar “Mary’s not stopping in is she?”

Greg gave the girl a look that clearly told her he didn’t even want to think about where Mary was.

“Nope, waiting for a mate of mine to stop in,” Greg said coolly.

The woman gave him a “knowing” smile and winked as she sauntered away.

John really had meant to text Greg, call him, get together and figure all this shit out that John called the last twenty years, but that night, John killed the first man since Afghan, all because he’d threatened Sherlock Holmes’ life. John knew then that not only was this new life dangerous, but Sherlock Holmes wasn’t a man who did things half-arsed. He had been going to take the damn pill, because he was bored, and ended up getting a  man shot. John saw Greg at the scene once more, talking the case over with Sherlock, who was wearing, of all things, a shock blanket. John stood at ease, waiting for Sherlock. He’d already disposed of the smoking gun, and was merely waiting for Sherlock to put two and two together, which he did quite quickly.

After than, it was an instant working partnership. Sherlock may not’ve been the easiest man to work with, but it was never dull. Sherlock only took the insane cases, everything else was too dull for his attentions. It was one of Sherlock’s “bored” days when John got a text from Greg’s mobile letting him know where a decent pub was. He told Sherlock he was going out, but the man was in one of his nicotine hazes and barely noticed him going out the door.

He caught a cab to the pub, and walked in looking around for Greg, and seeing him at the bar. He remembered another pub, another night, when he hadn’t been looking for Greg but had found him anyways, and he chuckled internally and walked over to Greg. He shook his hand, and desperately fought the urge to hug him tightly, and cry into his shoulder, knowing that it would not be appropriate. He was fighting a war with his heart now every time he stepped out the door it seemed.

Taking a seat, he ordered two beers, their old favorites, and smiled as he handed one to Greg, and then he just looked at him. “Christ, Greg. How.. How have you been? How long have you been a D.I.?” His thoughts were far more personal:  _Why_ _didn’t you come see me off like you promised? Did you miss me? I missed you, but I also tried to forget you._ _I wrote you a letter. Probably shouldn’t give it to you now, but I want to. Christ, I missed you._

Greg smiled when John came in and shook his hand, but Greg pulled him into a quick hug before sitting down.

“You know I can’t let you pay for this,” Greg joked. He was grinning again which was something. Greg didn’t do much smiling these days let alone full out grinning.

“Been a DI for oh eight…nine years now? Been working at Scotland Yard for almost fifteen. And what about you? Last I knew you were stationed out somewhere getting shot at?”

He examined John with interest. It was so painfully obvious how broken the man was, but there was something about him as if being with Greg wasn’t helping. Why would he be hurting John though? It didn’t make sense. 

“I missed you mate,” he added.

Greg had hugged him, and John hugged him tightly, but let him go far sooner than he ever wanted to. John laughed when Greg told him be wasn’t going to pay, and shook his head. “I want to, and I dare you to stop me,” he said, taking a drink of his pint. He loved Greg’s grin, even now, and it was impossible not to grin back. It was almost like the past 20 years had never happened. But they had, and John sobered after a moment.

“Damn Greg. You, a copper. Never saw that one coming. But it suits you,” John said, raising his glass to him. John had always hoped that Greg would find his big break, and now he was a big shot at the Yard. John was very proud of him. “And you’re married? To who? I bet you make a great husband,” he said, a little sarcastically, remembering Greg’s wild lifestyle before.

At the mention of Afghanistan, and the oh-so-familiar question, John shut down a little. “I was, yea. And I got shot too,” he said, remembering Murray, and the all too annoying reminder that it could’ve been him never coming home. “I was out there for, Jesus, 20 years? They had me everywhere. I worked a lot in Afghanistan, but I went other places to. I don’t regret going, but… Well, I wouldn’t go back.”

At Greg’s words, John stiffened, and then looked at him. “I missed you too, probably more than you’ll ever know.” He gave him a small smile, then drank down the rest of his pint, and ordered another. “Greg, I have to ask. Why didn’t you come? To see me off I mean?”

“I’ll take you up on that one.” He winked. “I can’t in good conscience allow a mate living on an army pension to pay for my drinks.”

Greg stiffened at John’s mention of him being married. Instinctively he looked down at his tarnished ring. He remembered Sherlock making the deduction about his marriage right away and it had hurt. It hurt for John to point out he was married. He remembered how much John had hated Mary.

“Mary,” he cleared his throat. “We got married after she got pregnant. She was a mistake -the marriage- but I love my children…I always wanted a family.”

And now he had one, minus the mother figure for his children.

“I’m glad you’re back okay,” he said forcing a plastic smile. “I’m sure you were the best doctor they had. I always said you were going to be great.”

Greg lifted the glass to his lips and took a drink of the beer. These days he lived off the soar of alcohol in his veins…no Greg wasn’t a drunk he just drank to take the edge off loneliness. Still Grace threatened to have him sent to rehab on a regular basis. He didn’t understand why. Greg didn’t drink to the point he was in a stupor. He hadn’t done that in years. 

He watched John’s body stiffen as he admitted to missing him as well, but why? They were good mates. Couldn’t they miss each other? And then it all made sense.

“I didn’t see you off?” he asked his brow furrowed. “Mary always said…” He swallowed. “She said I saw you off…that I was on my way back from the airport when it happened?”

Suddenly Greg was confused.

John grinned. “Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he winked back at him, and then ordered another round because he was feeling good tonight. He and Greg were mates again, and the world was sorting itself out a little.

 _Mary. He had married Mary. They had kids._ “Married Mary? Well.. that is a bit of a shock, but that’s life for you,” he said, drinking his drink to keep himself from calling Mary a shank whore and a bitch, for those were the words riding so dangerously close to the edge of his lips, and he’d just gotten Greg back. He couldn’t lose him again now, although given his expression when he mentioned Mary and the marriage, he probably wouldn’t take offense at it. “I bet your kids turned out right well, though. I can see you being a good dad, Greg,” he said, looking at him, and smiling a little. “I’m glad to be back too. Really glad, now that I know some of the old crew have stuck around.” He looked away. “I wasn’t great. I just did my job. I could’ve done better.”

Greg looked honestly confused when John told him he’d not seen him off. Didn’t Greg remember? The week before… Everything that had happened? But if he had, why had he….

“No… you didn’t. I waited for hours, until my commander had to force me onto the plane,” John said quietly. “Mary’s a stupid skank,” said John, very harshly, as he looked at Greg’s confused face. He was angry at Mary for stealing Greg from him and hurting him like this, and anger flooded his features for a single moment before he caught the second part of Greg’s statement. “Wait…. I take that back. You said when it happened… what happened, Greg? What happened to you?”

Greg sighed as John said he could have done better. He glanced down at his ring again. There were times, times like this, when he felt like the metal was burning him and he just had to get it off. So that’s what he did. He worked the ring off his finger and slid it into his pocket. It wasn’t like Mary cared or anything. She was hardly around to notice whether he wore the ring or not.

“Don’t say that, that’s bollocks,” he said rolling his eyes.

He could hardly disagree with John’s statement about Mary and only shrugged, but why would she lie like that? Had she lied about him seeing John off. She had to have. There was no way the look of pain on John’s face could be anything but genuine.

“What happened-?” he asked furrowing his brow.

Mary said she had phoned him at his base, as soon as she could, and told John all about what had happened to him. She said John was too busy to call back.

“I…I was in a crash. She said I was leaving the airport to come meet her for dinner…she said I’d just seen you off,” he said slowly. “I forgot my helmet at the office. The doctor said when I took the turn too sharp, there was a car speeding through a red light. I was hit and knocked clear off my bike, ended up with major head trauma…and  _memory_ loss.”

“It’s not, really. I’d tell you, but.. well, best saved for another time,” John said with a grimace.

Greg worked his wedding band off his finger and John knew then that indeed, things were not alright in Greg’s world. Mary hadn’t changed, probably. He wondered what else she’d told him, and then he wished he hadn’t brought her up as Greg told him what had happened.

“Stupid whore,” muttered John, more angry now than he’d been in a long while. She’d had years to poison Greg’s mind and heart, and now John could see the damage done. Greg had nearly died, and Mary had taken that opportunity to steal him for herself, make a new life for herself. “Christ, Greg,” John said, coming back to the present as Greg told him about the accident.  _Memory loss. So he really_ didn’t  _remember._ He couldn’t think of what else to say, so he leaned over and hugged him tightly, swallowing hard, and blinking away a sudden tear.

He moved away from him when he felt it had been too long and looked away. “I didn’t know. No… she never called me. I thought you’d forgotten, or were still mad at me.”

Greg was about to protest John’s claim about Mary, but he knew it was true. He had known all along, but he went along with it. He had gone along with her and her games all this time because he had felt alone and so empty, but he never knew why. Still he didn’t know why. All he could come up with was that there had to be something in that time that he had forgotten that changed things. Something had changed his life and when the car hit him that thing had splattered out of his mind onto the pavement just like his blood.

Then John was hugging him and Greg could hear the tears though they were being held back. They were there. Instinctively he held onto John, circling him tightly in his arms and waiting until he had calmed down.

“What happened John? What did I do to you?” he furrowed his brow. “I never had any reason to think she was lying to me, but…?”

Greg didn’t protest the insult to Mary. That was interesting. He hugged him back, and John nearly did cried, but he managed to control himself. He sighed.  _I can’t tell him. He has a family, and a life apart from me now. He’s managed to move on. I need to as well._

“Nothing happened, Greg. We…we had a fight, before I left, and you told me that you were coming to see me off, and I wanted to say I was sorry for fighting. That was all. We were mates, you and I, and I didn’t want to leave on a sour note,” John said, putting his emotions to the side, and faking that it had just been a spat between friends. Greg remembered that they were friends, and only friends, and John would force himself to just remember that as well. He would burn the letter to Greg, and never send it. He couldn’t keep it any longer.

“It’s nothing. And it hardly matters anymore. So, you’ve got kids, have you? Boys? Girls? Or one of each?” John asked, forcing himself to move to less painful matters. He knew that when he got home, he wouldn’t want to talk to anyone. Maybe he wouldn’t go home tonight. Sherlock would hardly know he was gone.

Greg set his hand on John’s. Something told him to do it as if it were a natural urge for him, but he didn’t quite understand. 

“I’m not mad,” he said patting John’s hand once more before sliding it back to his drink.

Greg took a drink. Suddenly he had a flash, mentally, from one of his many strange dreams the dreams about John. It was them screaming at each other and then Greg walked away. He walked away from John and his heart burned as if it were a memory and not a dream at all.

“I have a daughter, Grace, she’s 19 working on getting a degree in cinematography and then there’s my son, Toby, he’s 12 and well he changes what he wants to be just as often as he changes his trousers,” Greg smiled good humouredly. “You’ll have to come round one day and meet them. Toby would probably love to chat with you. He’s been into the whole soldier thing lately.” 

Greg took his hand for a moment, and John fought the urge to hold it, and forced his hand to stay where it was. He gave Greg a small smile when he said he wasn’t mad, and nodded to him. John remembered vividly how angry Greg had been, but how well he’d hidden it, or tried to hide it from him. He remembered the bottles of alcohol he’d drunk down. He remembered finding the note, and how he’d let himself hope. And now he understood why Greg had never tried to find him. And it hurt, but he couldn’t show any of that. And then Greg’s hand was gone, and John brought himself back to the present.

Greg’s face went a bit distant as he drunk his beer, and John wondered what he was thinking about. His face looked a bit pinched, and John could tell something was bugging him, but he refrained from asking.

“They sound great,” John said, giving him a real smile. Greg’s kids did sound fantastic. Toby sounded like a real riot, and he probably took after Greg. “I might. We’ll see. I dn’t want to come by when Mary’s there though, or I might do something you’ll have to arrest me for,” John said in all seriousness. Then he thought back to the look on Greg’s face. “Greg… a little while back, your face … You were thinking about something. You looked like.. well, it looked like it was hurting you. Do you.. I mean, do you want to tell me about it?”

Greg gave a dark chuckle at John’s comment about Mary and him having to arrest John. He shook his head.

“Doubt you’d have to worry about that. She’s never round…haven’t seen her in,” he paused. “At least a week. To tell you the truth John, only reason I haven’t kicked up a fuss for a divorce is because I’m afraid of loosing Toby. I can only think of how dreadfully he’d end up if he was in her custody and you know they always favour the mother…even if the mother is negligent.”

Greg’s fingers carded slowly through his hair as he spoke. He happened to not mention the drinking and how he was almost always in some state of alcohol induced haze when he was at the flat. If it hadn’t been for his slight dependency Greg would have already divorced her, but he knew she’d use that against him.

“What? What’d you mean?” he asked slowly.

Thinking? What had he been thinking about? All he could recall being on his mind was John, John and the dreams. He swallowed and eyed John for a moment. Would it be weird to mention them to him? John had always been rather  _open,_ but Greg didn’t know if that was pushing it. He had just gotten their friendship back.

“Oh, er it was nothing.”

John swallowed, and nodded, understanding. He’d always favored his father, honestly, but he could see why Greg would be worried about that. He steeled himself and touched his hand again. “I’ll come by the first chance I get then. Really. I’d love to meet Toby, especially. Bet he turned out just like his dad,” he chuckled, and didn’t move his hand.

“Well… I don’t know. You just looked like you were in pain. Remembering something,” he said, removing his hand. He had probably just been imagining all of it.

“Never mind. So, tell me about life. How did you end up at the Yard?”

“Well, I do the best I can.”

Greg watched John’s hand as the fingers curled ever so slightly around his. For a moment he thought he couldn’t breathe and then he looked up to focus on what was being said. Then the hand was gone.

“I er…well, just sort of happened really. I was lucky to get the job,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

He didn’t want to admit how much he wanted to reach out and take John’s hand again, but he didn’t. All he could think about were the dreams and instinctively licked his bottom lip remembering how real John’s lips tasted in the dreams.

“So, you’re living with Sherlock Holmes?”

He fought to keep the pang of annoyance and almost jealousy out of his voice. Sherlock was a young handsome man and much closer to John in age.

john was focused on their hands as well, and on how it seemed to be affecting Greg. And Greg wasn’t making it much easier for him to force himself to stop from reaching for it again, and he licked his lip, and John had to look away and drink some more beer. Then they got back to safer territory by Greg asking about Sherlock.

“Yea, yea. Mike introduced us. He’s a bit strange, isn’t he? But I think it’ll work out nicely. As long as he keeps the fingers out of my tea kettle,” said John, chuckling a little. Those were words he’d never thought he’d say. Greg’s voice sounded a bit off, and John wondered why. “How did you meet him? And why on earth do you keep him around? Is he really that brilliant? I mean… he’s just phenomenal, but he’s a bit of a prick. Your team doesn’t seem to like him much either.”

John was in agony, real true agony. For the first time since Murray died, he was feeling twinges of feelings he hadn’t had for anyone in twenty years, and this man was the cause of all of it. He’d been in his mind for twenty years, and now he was sitting in front of him, and John couldn’t stop himself from thinking about him. He drank more of his beer, and then ordered another round. If he couldn’t have Greg, he’d at least treat him as he should be treated, instead of how that bitch Mary’d been treating him. He didn’t dare take that train of thought any further.

“Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes is a huge wanker, but when it comes down to it he is  _my_  wanker and he does a hell of a good job at what he does. When he and I met he was just a druggie and rather lost -quite sad-, but he deduced things about me nobody could have known from just a glance. I was hesitant, but eventually I brought him some of my case files. He solved it all in minutes and that’s where it all began really. It was a spot of trouble finding the money to help him get to rehab, no help from his brother and all, but once he did,” Greg whistled. “Well still a wanker -obviously- but he was the most productive and brilliant man I’ve ever met. Sometimes I dunno if we’re actually friends or if it’s just one of those mutually beneficial relationships. Either way it’s good having him around.”

Greg rubbed his forehead when he finished talking and looked down into his drink. He picked it up and finished it off quickly.

“D’you mind coming for a smoke with me? I like to walk,” he said.

He didn’t know why he felt compelled to add it on there because John knew he liked to walk when he smoked. They had lived together.

John took this all in. He’d met the elusive Mycroft Holmes twice now, once as a kidnap victim, of sorts, and the other at the last crime scene in the case John had dubbed A Study In Pink on his blog. He didn’t much like the elder Holmes, as he was nearly more of a prick than Sherlock,  _and_ he was part of the British government. He balked a little at the idea of Sherlock being a druggie, but then remembered Greg coming over and faking a drugs bust. He’d forgotten it, because of all the excitement over the case, but now he remembered.The two men had had quite a row over the drugs bust idea, with Lestrade giving Sherlock a bad time, and John not believing a word of it, till Sherlock had given him a look. And then all the drama with the cabbie, and the shot… John chuckled a little at the memory. That was the moment when he knew Sherlock and he were not going to be ordinary flatmates.

“Well, all that is good to know. So… we’ll be working together then, I suppose,” John said, nodding to his request to come with him while he smoked. “Course I don’t mind,” he said, putting some money on the bar for the drinks. “I could use some air.”

He followed Greg out to the street, and was reminded of another night, leaving a pub late together. That night had ended quite differently, and John blushed at the thought, hiding his face by putting up his collar against the wind that had kicked up. He desperately tried to think of other things to ask Greg, things that didn’t eventually lead back to the question “so what about us, and what am I going to do without you?” He sighed, and watched as Greg lit up. He still wasn’t a fan of smoking, as Greg knew well, but during his time in the military, he’d become more accustomed to it.

Greg lit his cigarette and watched John’s face. The obvious disgust he used to portray was no longer there, but it was clear John wouldn’t become a smoker anytime soon. He offered John a weak smile. His old army doctor seemed to be thinking rather hard about something and he wanted to know what it was. Greg exhaled his drag away from John -in an attempt to spare him as much second hand smoke as possible.

“So, you’re twisted up in a knot about something,” he said conversationally. “Care to share? Or have we been apart that long that the sharing rule no longer applies?”

When they were younger they had developed the sharing rule. The sharing rule meant well exactly what it sounded like; they had promised to always share what they were upset over as long as the time was right. The most important bit about the sharing rule was no lying. If you were going to share it had to be the truth which worked rather well because they could easily tell when the other was lying, but Greg didn’t know anymore.

John chuckled. The sharing rule… he’d nearly forgotten about that. “God, that’s a blast from the past. It still applies,” he said, with a wry smile.

“I’m….. confused and lost about a lot of things. But,” he hedged, “I don’t know if it’s the right time to ask about them. Because…. well, you don’t remember, for one thing. And for another… well, I’ve just gotten back, and I’d hate to make things awkward for everyone.”

Greg furrowed his brow at John.

“Yeah, what would make me awkward?”

John huffed a laugh. “Trust me. This would. Perhaps it’s best to leave it rest for a little while. Perhaps it’ll come back to you on your own.”

Greg gave John a puzzled look. How did John expect him to miraculously remember all this information and what not? He had the accident 20 years ago and had twenty years to try remembering. Still he continued to come up with nothing. Doctors had suggested using triggers to make the memories return but he didn’t know what he was trying to trigger.   
  
“I suppose, it has been years though. Doctors told me after one year it was unlikely I’d ever get that month or two of my life back. Apparently after so long memories are just lost,” he said.   
  
He took a final drag of his smoke before tossing the butt on the ground and stomping it out.

John sighed, and leaned back on the brick wall behind him. Greg didn’t know what to trigger, because John had never sent that note, and Mary hadn’t had the common sense to phone to tell him what had happened.

“Well, it hardly matters now, mate,” John said, with a far off look in his eyes. “You’re married, and we’ve both moved on in life. You more than me, I suppose. It,” he hesitated here, before pressing on and effectively breaking his own heart again. “It wasn’t a big deal anyhow,” he finished, giving Greg a small, but hopefully sincere smile.

How reminicent of their last weekend together, with Greg lying to John to save his feelings.

Greg just didn’t understand what John was trying to say. He cared. He cared about whatever it was and he wanted to remember. Sometimes he could feel it scratching at the surface begging to get out, to break the surface, and it ached sometimes. This was one of those times. His heart ached and he didn’t know why. He stared at John and licked his lips thoughtfully. Greg raised his hand as if to touch John’s face, but stopped half way and stared. What was he doing?   
  
“You don’t have to keep things,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.


	10. Jogging Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg tries to deal with what is going on between him and John, but Sherlock gets involved.

Greg had been sitting in his car for a half hour. He was parked across the street from Baker Street watching the window. Sherlock was home, but Greg wasn’t interested in seeing Sherlock today he wanted to see John. He wanted to ask John to come to dinner with him because he didn’t feel like eating alone. Greg usually didn’t feel comfortable asking someone for their company because it made him feel stupid in doing so.   
  
 _Stop being such a sissy,_ he thought.   
  
He tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs thoughtfully. Maybe he could just go home. Toby would be in from his friend’s house later and they could have dinner together, but Tony wasn’t quite as keen on spending all his time with his dad anymore. He ran a hand through his hair and decided he had to. He’d already driven out there so it would be a waste to just go home. Hesiantantly Greg got out of his car and strode across the street to knock on the door.

John wasn’t at home, but at the hospital. Sherlock was, though. He’d seen the D.I. pull up and had wondered why he hadn’t come up straight away, but he didn’t pretend to understand ordinary people, much less the D.I. He was just a little curious though why he’d found a letter addressed to D.I. Lestrade lying on the mantle near the fire. But he figured it wasn’t his business, it should just be deleted, so he forgot about it for the time being.

“Lestrade, any cases?” he asked, from his position on the sofa, after Mrs. Hudson let the D.I. in. “Or have you come to nag me about my drug habits yet again?”

Greg knocked on the door and Mrs. Hudson allowed him in as she always did and offered him a cup of tea. He told her, for the hundredth time it seemed, that he preferred coffee. She chuckled and waved him up the stairs muttering about how he was such a silly man. Greg rolled his eyes as he walked up the stairs. Mrs.Hudson was such a funny old woman. Once he reached the top of the stairs he  knocked once on the door before entering. 

There was Sherlock lying on the couch as always, but he saw no signs of John. He glanced around the flat in thought not really hearing what Sherlock was saying to him.

“Oh, um cases? No, not for you…I was actually looking for John,” Greg said biting the inside of his cheek nervously. “Is he in?”

Sherlock looked up for a moment at the D.I. wondering what on earth he would be wanting with John Watson. The man was dull, but Sherlock enjoyed having him along on his cases, for his interesting insight, as well as his never ending compliments and common sense. Secretly, Sherlock was a little fond of John, but being in the circumstances he usually was, as well as the fact that he had no idea how to function with emotions, he shelved that fondness away into a deep corner of his mind palace.

“John? Oh. He’s still at work. Left a note for you though, or something like that. Over on the mantle,” Sherlock gestured vaguely in the direction of the mantle, and then put his hands together, lost in thought again, pushing aside all thoughts of the D.I. as well as John. He didn’t have a case, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a world of things to think through. He didn’t even notice when the other man left.

Greg furrowed his brow at Sherlock’s words. He strode over to the mantle, picked up the letter, and tucked it into his pocket. For a moment he paused looking around the flat as if he didn’t know what to do, but finally he sighed and thanked Sherlock. Of course Sherlock wasn’t paying him any mind. So he left the flat and headed out to his car.

As he made his way outside he considered phoning John to ask what the letter was about, but then again if John hadn’t wanted him to see it he wouldn’t have addressed it to him. Greg got in his car and closed the door. He put his keys into the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. There in the silence of his car he took a moment and thought. He sighed and pulled out the letter, ripping open the envelope and reading the rather weathered paper inside. How old was this letter, he wondered.

> _Dear Greg,  
> _ _I was so happy to know you, and even before I told you how I felt, I was in love with you. I never told you that, but now you’ll know. Thank you for being you, and for staying with me, even though I can be a right prick sometimes.  
> _ _Wait for me. I’ll come back.  
> _ _Love,  
> _ _John Watson_

_  
_Greg finished reading and then he read it again. He stopped for a moment, stared back at the paper, thought about crumbling it or ripping it up even, stared again, and sighed.

Was this what John had been hiding? This had to be it. Why else would he be so upset with him? Greg paused and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know why, but the words in the letter stirred something inside him and and it kind of hurt. It had been years since the whole ordeal had happened and obviously John was still bothered by it. Greg frowned. John was going to have to tell him what happened.

That was it. He was going to the hospital. Greg didn’t have anything else to be doing for the rest of the day and Toby would call if he needed him. He would wait all night if he had to, but they were talking.

“Molly, do you have that paperwork for Sherlock?” John asked the young lab assistant, and she blushed at the mention of Sherlock. “Yes, John, it’s right over here. Um… how is he?” “Hmm? Oh, he’s fine. Just.. he’s being Sherlock. On one of his kicks again,” he gave her a smile. She was infatuated with Sherlock, it was obvious even to John, but Sherlock wouldn’t give anyone the time of day. He took the paperwork from her and thanked her and then went back upstairs to do his rounds.

It had been a long day, and he was tired. Working with Sherlock was exhausting, and many nights Sherlock kept him up to help him sort through boxes of seemingly pointless items. Once he and Sherlock went through three entire collections of books to solve a case, and the key hadn’t been any of those books, but John went along with it. Best to stay on Sherlock’s good side, especially when he was in one of his moods.

He walked the halls, checking on his patients, and made small talk with their families. As he left one of his last patient’s room, he saw an grey-haired man at the receptionist’s desk. He looked closer and realised that it was Greg.  _Why was Greg here?_ He walked over to him, curiousity on his face.

“D.I. Lestrade, is there anything I can help you with?” he asked, not knowing if this was official business or not.

Greg took his time in making his way around the hospital. He knew vaguely where John would be working, but of course he didn’t know anything for sure. Things changed and moved around constantly for doctors. So when he finally made it to the correct reception desk he was a bit worn, not that he hadn’t been upon arriving, and requested to speak with John right away. 

“I’m sorry Sir, but the doctor is very busy,” said the snippy little blonde nurse behind the desk.

Greg gave her a dirty look and sighed. He paced a bit before coming back to the desk.

“When will be not be busy?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know sir, perhaps you should have made an appointment,” she said.

Greg rolled his eyes and slid his hands into his pockets. He paced a few steps from the desk and carded his fingers through his salt and peppered hair and that was when a voice jolted him from his daze. He turned to see John.

“I need to speak with you,” he said as calmly as possible. “In private.”

He pulled the letter out of his pocket and put it into John’s hand.

“Now preferably.”

John had been worried that it was a case, or even something wrong with Sherlock. But he had been in no way anticipating the look on Greg’s face, or the letter that he handed him. The letter John had been going to burn that night. The letter John had written nearly twenty years ago to his best mate and lover, to keep him going for the time John was away. The letter that contained what Greg had forgotten. The letter that held John’s true feelings for the man, the ones he harbored even now, though he’d swore to never tell him.

The letter that apparently Greg had gotten ahold of, and opened and read. And now wanted to discuss.

“Okay,” John said quietly, and led Greg to his office, not saying a word, until the detective had followed him into his office, and John had shut and locked the door behind them. He turned around slowly, and looked at Greg. “I was going to burn it. You… You weren’t ever going to see it. After twenty years, I was going to get rid of it.”

He couldn’t look Greg in the eye. He felt like he had twenty years ago, when he first found out he was going to be drafted. Like anything he might say would just hurt one or both of them.

Greg watched as John’s face slowly changed from the look of worry to change to straight out embarrassment. He didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was planning on verbally attacking John or even telling him they couldn’t be friends anymore. All he wanted was to understand because Greg felt like there was more. There had to be more to it then what the letter said on the surface. It was the sort of thing where the intended recipient knew exactly what was going on not the kind of letter you’d write to yourself to get feelings out.   
  
He sat down on the opposite side of John’s desk and waited for him to sit down. What would he say? Greg wondered. John sat down and stared down at the paper on the desk not looking at Greg as he explained. The explanation was lacking though, it was lacking in depth, the depth that Greg was yearning for wasn’t there. He stared at John blankly.   
  
“You mean you were never going to tell me?” he said slowly. “It has to do with me too, John. That’s not the kind of letter you write just to get your feelings out. It was addressed to me, so you were actually going to give it to me. John you need to tell me - what happened to us? In that two months I forgot, what happened? Something changed. Don’t say it’s not important because it is. If it wasn’t important then you wouldn’t have written this…you would have never has any intent of telling me about it if something hadn’t happened.”  
  
Greg sat still for a moment mulling over John’s words, his words, and the gap. There was this gap in his mind, but it ran deeper than that. Whatever it was he knew, he’d known, even before this had surfaced with John. He had never placed it before though. 

John sighed and put his head in his hand. He stayed silent for a little while, mulling over everything he could possibly say. He thought over the few days they’d had together. He couldn’t even call it a relationship. But he’d allowed himself to hope, to build up dreams, and then after the draft, he’d stored them away deep in the crevasses of his mind, to be forgotten, because he’d thought Greg had forgotten him.

He looked up at Greg after a bit. “I wanted to tell you. But.. when I found out you’d been hurt, when you’d told me why you’d forgotten, I thought why hurt you more by telling you about your life before the accident? It’d… It had been twenty years. You moved on.”

He took a beat, and then told their story. “I wrote that letter the day I left. I was going to give it to you when you came to see me off. We fought that whole weekend. I say fought, but it was more of… a mutual ignoring. We ….” he sighed again. “I told you about a week before I left that I was interested in you. Sexually. And… well, it went from there. It wasn’t long enough to really be called a relationship, but I had hoped… and then I got that draft notice in the post.”

Greg let it all sit with him for a moment. He thought for a moment. It made sense, as much as it hurt, it did. Finally Greg took a breath and nodded.  First he didn’t know what to say.

“I did try to phone you…before the wedding and all. I had wanted you to be my best man. Course I knew you’d never been fond of Mary, but I had hope you’d do it for me and I never got any response not even a polite message from an office worker to let me know you weren’t available,” he paused thoughtfully. “I used to dream about you…when the doctors told me memories might come back as dreams, but I thought I was just having strange dreams. They were sexual dreams… _very_. They were so vivid sometimes I’d wake up and expect you to be lying next to me.”

“I never got a phone call,” John said simply. “Course, I wasn’t always near a phone, but I never got messages either.”

John sighed and sat back, and then looked up at Greg with a curious look on his face when he mentioned the dreams. “Well… chances are, those  _were_ memories,” he said, blushing just a little. “I… I’m sorry, how did you even _get_ this letter? I never sent it.”

Greg blushed a little at the idea of them being real. If they were then that would mean he had slept with John, but he didn’t have the guts to ask if that was the case. He knew how he had been back in those days though and it was very likely they had…it was a stage he had gone through.  _Shagged anything gorgeous enough,_ was what Mary had bitterly said about him once.

“Oh, erm I went to your flat because I had,” he swallowed and tried to keep from blushing again. “I had wanted to ask you if you were interested in going to dinner…Mary’s  _gone away_ and Toby’s at a friend’s.”

John noticed Greg’s blush, and tried to figure out what was going on in that head of his. Mostly likely more lies Mary had been telling him. Well.. in Greg’s case, not lies, but truths designed to hurt Greg. John really would kill her. She didn’t deserve Greg, and she’s only hurt him. Any fool could see that. He only hoped that she hadn’t effected the kids as well. Greg’s kids.  _Christ._

He sat in thought. “Sherlock must’ve found it. Arse,” he said quietly. At the invitation to dinner, John looked a little surprised. “Well, I would like to, yea. But.. I mean, with all this now, does the offer still stand? I’ll understand if it doesn’t.”

Greg stared.

“If I hadn’t intended on still asking you to come then I wouldn’t have mentioned it,” he said. “Eating alone can be rather tiresome…and now I want to know more about   what happened in that week.”

John blushed, and chuckled a bit. “Well, I just wanted to check,” he said, giving him a small smile.

“So… where shall we go? Any preference?” he asked, getting up, and grabbing his coat. In his mind, he was going through their past, trying to fugre what was good and not good, to tell Greg about their…. relationship.

“I thought…Japanese?” Greg asked cautiously.


	11. Dinner and a Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and John eat and talk about the past, and John invites him back to 221b.

  
The ride to the restaurant was indeed uncomfortable, and John hated that this had happened to them. All the things they’d been through to bring them to this increasingly awkward point. In a word, John was frustrated. In a perfect world, they’d’ve had a lot of time before the military. Had time to figure out who they were and what exactly they were doing. He had allowed himself to hope, and dream, and that’s why they were where they were.

John followed him to their seats and looked through the menu for what he wanted to eat. He quickly ordered an entree and a bowl of soup, and then let Greg order before setting his menu to the side, and looked at Greg.

“So… what do you want to know?”

  
Greg didn’t bother looking at the menu he already knew what he wanted. Japanese was one of his favourite foods and this was a very nice place he rarely came to, but when he did he always got the same delicious sushi dish. Once they had both ordered and their drinks had been brough Greg settled in to listen.

“I…,” he stopped and took a drink of his scotch. “I think I want to know how it all started…with us?”

John took a large swallow of his gin and tonic, and then set it down, his hand clenching in his lap as he struggled to find the right words.

“Well… You remember how we used to have pizza nights?” Greg nodded, smiling at him. “Well. It was one of those nights. And you were telling me about this girl you thought I’d be interested in, and telling me I needed to shag someone, to get me to feel better, or some shit like that, and I suddenly realised that… well, I didn’t want to be with another one of your skank girls. I wanted you. And I told you, after some prodding. And..” John swallowed, and looked away from Greg for a moment, and then looked back.  “Then I kissed you. And you liked it. I think. Well… I know, actually. Cause you kissed me back.”

John waited to hear Greg’s reaction before he told him anymore.

Greg absorbed the information and stared at John. It was rather interesting. There had been times in his life, since he had been married, that Greg had considered the possibility that in the least he was not straight. He had felt things for male co-workers and other similar situations, but he never remembered any of this with John. It was extremely frustrating. Had the events with John opened him up to it and he didn’t even realize?

“I did, I dream about you kissing me in the sitting room…all the time,” he muttered.

His cheeks were slightly flushed as he admitted it, but their moment was interrupted by their plates being set down in front of them. Greg nodded his thanks and took a bite not really meeting John’s eyes.

“What else? Tell me the things you would want me to know…the good the bad and the ugly,” Greg said. “Stop filtering what you’re saying.”

John was about to say more, when their plates came, but he stopped and smiled at the waitress, thanking her for her service.

He took a few bites, before speaking again. “Well, from there, it progressed fairly quickly,” he said, looking at Greg, but mostly looking at his food, out the window, anywhere but Greg. as he told him everything. About the handjob he’d given him, and how they’d slept in the same bed that night. The morning after, and the cuddling they’d done, followed by their first fight. The pub, and their accidental meeting. The blowjob, and eventual actual sex they’d had, and Greg asking John out on their first and only date. The blowjob at the theatre, and Greg’s reaction to John’s terrible striptease. The fight they’d had, and the first separation. The awkward discussion and the promises that had been made. And then John arrived at the moment of truth. The day he’d gotten the letter. How hopeful he’d started out, and the brokenness that had followed.

“I hated myself, Greg, for hurting you like that. For making those promises, and telling you all these things, that… If I had known I only had a week or two before I got drafted, I.. I don’t think I would’ve told you at all.”

He finished his rather long story, and took a sip of his very cold soup, and realized that he’d basically wasted nearly two hours telling Greg things that could ruin them both, especially if Greg didn’t remember, and that… had dredge up some very painful feelings for him as well. He looked at Greg for a reaction of some kind.

Greg sat and listened. He ate slowly as he listened to John speaking about their relationship for the better part of two hours. There were some moments when the pain was so obvious on John’s face that it made him ache to not reach over and grab his hand, but he didn’t. Greg just listened. He found himself unable to not reach across the table and take John’s hand. When he had finished Greg was frowning.  
  
“You were never going to tell me?” he murmured.   
  
He stated at John. His fingers squeezed the younger man’s hands instinctively as if to reassure them both that the other was still there. Greg wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. He felt helpless. The pain in John was clear and it ripped at the already frayed edges of a hole in his heart that seemed to have been reopened. He had to remind himself John wasn’t going anywhere.   
  
“I’m glad it all happened. Even if I can’t remember it now.”

John looked at their hands, Greg clutching his reassuringly, and John’s limply hanging in the balance. He sighed, and closed his fingers around Greg’s.

“I might’ve, maybe. Or I just would’ve pushed it aside, when you found someone else. I had no guarantee that I was coming back from the war, as much as I promised it in the letter. And,” he said with a sigh, “I wanted you to be happy, above my own happiness, above my wants and desires and…. my love for you, I wanted you to be happy. I had no idea that you wanted what I had to offer. It was a huge step for me to take.”

Greg’s fingers squeezed John’s, and he bit back a chuckle. In all his years, he’d never had anyone, man or woman, except Greg  who wanted to hold his hand, and even though he might not remember it, it was a habit of his that John had loved.

“It happened. That’s the important part. And you said you sometimes have dreams… more than likely those are your memories fighting to resurface. And now you know why,” John said, blushing a little, knowing that Greg dreamt about them. John had too, but his were more vivid, and were often not based on real events.

“Well, that last weekend was harder than anything. We both spent it stone cold drunk, and in separate parts of the flat. We were like reverse magnets, pulling away from each other. And then I woke up Monday morning, and sobered up, and packed, and was about to leave when I got  _your_ note. Saying that you were coming to see me off, whether I wanted you to or not. So I waited at the terminal gate. I waited until my commander forced me onto the plane. And you never showed,” John finished, gripping Greg’s hand, remembering that dark day.

Greg nodded. He didn’t really know what else to do. He had already finished his meal and John’s had gone cold, but by the look about him it didn’t look like John was very hungry to begin with.

“I’m sorry for the way things turned out,” he muttered. “I-I wish I could change it.”

John laughed and released his hand so he could rub his face. “What would you’ve been able to do, Greg? Sounds like the minute you woke up, Mary had her claws in you.”

John sighed and looked out the window at the street. “No. I wish I could change it too. But there’s nothing to be done for it now, is there? You’re married, and I’m.. well. A confirmed bachelor, working with the most brilliant nutter the world has ever seen.” He looked back at Greg. “Sorry to lay on this on you. But you said you wanted to know.” He brushed Greg’s finger gently, not wanting to take his hand again, but needing to touch him, somehow.

Greg took the opportunity to grab John’s hand and interlocked their fingers together. He gave a weak smile. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

Greg paid for their meals and they got their coats. Not much was said between them as they exited the restaurant or even as they began walking. There was too much reflection going on between the two internally. He had let go of John’s hand to put on his coat, but had taken it again as they walked out of the restaurant. Greg let it all sit in silence for a little while. He wasn’t too rushed to over discuss things; having found talking wasn’t always the best way to deal with things.  It wasn’t until they reached a park where Greg sat down on the bench pulling John down beside him that he decided what he really needed to do. He sincerely hoped John didn’t react poorly.

Everything seemed to suddenly turn sickeningly slow motion, like in the movies, to Greg as he turned to face John and leaned in. It really happened in a matter of seconds, but it felt like a life time before his lips touched John’s. The kiss didn’t last very long, but it was enough to solidify the whole thing. With that kiss the whole thing really became a reality to him and he found himself leaning away slowly after about ten seconds. His cheeks tinted slightly red.

“I had to,” he muttered.

John gave him a small smile when Greg took his hand. He nodded silently as Greg suggested a walk, and pulled on his coat, letting Greg pay.

They walked aimlessly it seemed, and John didn’t even notice Greg take his hand again, he was that lost in thought. But he knew he was holding his hand, and somehow that gave him hope. Greg and John were both quickly becoming quite recognizable because of their more public work with Sherlock, so for Greg to take John’s hand show no lack of interest. John was lost in thought, up until the moment Greg pulled him down by his hand to sit next to him on a park bench.

Then he kissed him. Completely unexpected, and John didn’t respond at first, and then his lips remembered the shape of Greg’s and he kissed him back urgently, but still gentle. His lips caressed Greg’s and he brought a hand up to hold his face still… And then his lips were gone, and Greg was blushing and looking away, muttering excuses.

John swallowed back his immediate reaction, which was to basically jump Greg’s bones, and he looked at his friend and thought to himself why Greg would’ve  _had_ to do it. Then he decided he didn’t much care for all this over thinking. He pulled Greg’s face up to his own again by his chin and looked him in the eyes. “Just… tell me when to stop,” he said softly, an echo of the words he’d spoken all those years ago, at which point, he kissed Greg gently, teasing his lips and mouth with little airy kisses, and then solidifying what they were doing by putting a hand round his head and kissing him properly, with both passion and caution.

  
He relaxed when he noticed John wasn’t angry with him for the kiss. Why would he be? Greg felt slightly foolish for even thinking the kiss would be met negatively especially after the whole conversation they had just had back at the restaurant. He relaxed as John’s hand met his cheek before he pulled away.   
  
“I’m not a kid John. I know what I’m doing,” he said firmly.  
  
He gave a small grin as John pressed a few airy light kisses on his lips before he grew impatient and leaned in. Greg pressed their lips together fully and opened his mouth just enough to slide his tongue over John’s bottom lip. His hands grasped at John’s chest, side, hips, or whatever was in reach as he dragged himself closer. Vaguely in the back of his mind he registered that they were on a park bench and very much in public, but it took him a considerable amount of thought to not just straddle John right there.

John grinned at Greg’s words.  _Christ_ they sounded so familiar. He’d missed this, this proud assured Greg, telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

He indeed did take the kiss well, even opening his mouth, and John swallowed a moan as Greg licked his bottom lip and pulled himself closer. He opened his mouth to the kiss, and drank in everything thing that was Greg, his hand in his body, his tongue in his mouth. He wrapped a hand around Greg’s neck, and the other went around his waist. John wished that it was safe at either one of their flats or that they weren’t in public to that he could take Greg then and there, but he knew it wasn’t safe for either of them. He deepened the kiss just for a moment, and then pulled away, breathing hard, and rested his forehead. “We should go somewhere. Anywhere. Or we might get arrested for indecent exposure - which would be bad for one of us at least,” he said, grinning as his hand rested on Greg’s side.

Greg rolled his eyes at John.

“I’m rather sure that public indecency would look rather bad for a doctor just as much as it would for me,” he said.

He shoved John playfully. It was like he suddenly didn’t feel so weighed down, like the weight in his chest had lessened just a bit.

“Baker Street,” he said getting to his feet. “I’d rather it be Sherlock who would walk in on…whatever this is than Toby.”

“Yes, but I don’t have an upstanding reputation to hold as a D.I., Greg,” John joshed, shoving him back.  _God, it was just like old times, nearly,_ he thought to himself as he got up.

At the mention of Baker Street, however, John paused. What if Sherlock was home? He understood not wanting Toby to see anything, but he didn’t want Sherlock having one more thing on him than he already did. They started walking in that direction however, and John texted Sherlock with one hand, as he held Greg’s hand with the other.

_Where are you? -JW_

The answer came quickly.

_The morgue. Don’t expect me back till late. -SH_

He smiled at Greg, and squeezed his hand. “Baker Street is it then,” he said, as they continued to walk in the brisk London air.

John unlocked the flat and Greg followed him in. Upon entering he found it apparent that Sherlock must not be in which was strange. He was used to walking in and seeing the mass of dark curls lounging about and complaining about how he was bored. In the sitting room Greg stopped and dropped John’s hand to slide his into his pocket. Greg rocked from the balls of his feet to his heels as he glanced around awkwardly unsure what to do.

“So…?” he muttered. “Sherlock’s out.”

John walked in before Greg, to make sure that Sherlock really was gone. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if Sherlock was serious, or if he’d show up at an inconvenient time for everyone. That was still a distinct possibIlity, but even so, John felt a little thrill having Greg here alone. Greg dropped his hand, and John felt his heart drop a little.

“Yes, he is. Is that okay?” he asked, stepping away from him, to go put the kettle on. Then he remembered that Greg preferred coffee, and put the coffeemaker on instead. “It’s okay, that you’re nervous, I mean,” he said from the kitchen. He didn’t want to make Greg feel anymore uncomfortable than he already had. He looked up at him, trying to hide the feelings he was still having from their moment in the park. If Greg had changed his mind, he wasn’t going to push him.

“Yeah, that’s fine…he’s a bit of a prat sometimes and probably wouldn’t make this any easier anyway,”he said.

Greg walked over to John and wrapped his arms around the slightly shorter man from behind. There was an amused grin on his face as he next spoke.

“Put the coffeepot down,” he muttered.

He pressed his lips to John’s shoulder through the fabric.

“I didn’t come to your flat for a coffee…what are we eighteen? Have a snog and then get back to your place and everything is awkward again?”

John chuckled a little, and then leaned back into Greg’s embrace, closing his eyes. He had missed this more than he would ever be willing to admit. He shivered a little at the order, and at the kiss on his wounded shoulder, and turned in Greg’s arms, after putting the coffeepot down and turning off the stove.

“No. We did that already. I don’t want this to be like that,” he said, staring into Greg’s eyes, with a twinkle in his own. Then he kissed him again, harder than he had before, wrapping a hand around his neck to pull him closer.

Greg’s chuckle was cut off by John’s lips on his. He smiled into it and his hands slid down the younger man’s sides to rest on his hips. His thumb rubbed a small circle on John’s hip as he slid his hands slowly under the woolly sweater.

“It’s not like that,” he said.

Greg’s hands slid up under his sweater and John bit back a moan as the familiar feel of Greg’s hands coursed through him. He kissed his friend hard, backing him against a wall, and tilted his head to get a deeper angle into his mouth, desperate for his touch and the taste of him on his lips.

Greg disconnected his lips from John’s and started to kiss the man’s neck slowly tasting the skin under his lips. The kisses were fleeting and open mouthed leaving behind little red marks from where he had already been. He headed slowly towards the collar of John’s shirt and brought one hand up to pull it aside to get to the man’s collar bone. When he had run out of flesh to shower with kisses he pulled away again and looked at John. The brown eyes staring at him were clouded with lust and it tweaked his nerves slightly. He worried just a little bit that this may be a one time thing and he didn’t want that. Lustful, that was the look in John’s eyes and he knew it all to well thanks to his years of marriage to Mary.

“Why did you wait?” he asked softly.

Greg took the initiative, and started to kiss and suck at John’s neck, and he whimpered at his mouth’s touch on his skin, so needy, so desperate for him. He hadn’t known how much he had missed Greg until now, because he’d tried to get him out of his mind, but now they were here and Greg was kissing him, his neck, and his collarbone all over and then he was looking into John’s eyes. John looked back and realised that Greg was looking for something in his eyes, and he swallowed, trying to contain his lust and love for him for one moment.

“Wait for what? Wait to tell you?” he asked back, just as softly. He was truly confused to what Greg was referring to.

Greg sighed and backed off just a little bit to give them both some space to breathe. He stared at John. He didn’t want John to think poorly of him for asking, but he wanted to know. It just didn’t really make sense to him. Even after he had told John he married Mary, the one person Greg knew John hated the most, and had  _children_ with her he still wanted him. How could John still want him? Why did John want him at all?

It made sense why he wanted John. John was the reliable and loving sort of lad most women -and men- looked for. He was everything Greg couldn’t be for Mary because somehow he had messed them up and driven her away. Greg didn’t want to drive John away.

“Why did you wait for me?”

John sighed, and leaned back against the wall, trying to think of an answer that satisfied them both. He didn’t want to go in depth about Murray, and how he’d tried to forget Greg, but he just bloody couldn’t. He came out of his thoughtful haze, and look at Greg.

“I tried to forget you. I really did. But I couldn’t. Damned if I know, truly,” John said, taking Greg’s hand. “The truer answer is, because you were far worth the wait, and the pain.”

Greg frowned slightly and paced over to the bed. He sank down onto it and leaned back on it staring up at the ceiling. It was likely he had just ruined the moment and John may not want to continue. His fingers ran idly through his hair. The response that was on the tip of his tongue would certainly upset John so he choose not to speak at all.

John watched Greg’s face as he walked over to the bed and was concerned. He looked as if there were words on his tongue that he wanted to let fall, but was holding back. John followed him after a moment. He leaned in and kissed his shoulder gently. “Please don’t hide anything from me. What’s on your mind?” he said softly. He couldn’t bear to lose Greg a second time, simply because he’d fucked it up again.

Greg didn’t know what he wanted to say. He just looked up at John and gave a deep sigh. 

“Lay with me?” he asked and patted the bed next to him.

John gave him a small smile, and climbed onto the bed, and lay back on the mattress, looking up at Greg. He hated this. He hated this more than he’d hated leaving him in the first place.  _Why the fuck couldn’t he get this right?_  he thought to himself, as he pulled at Greg’s arm slightly, laying his hand over Greg’s.

He drew John up to him and pressed a light kiss to the man’s cheek before slowly kissing him on the lips. The next kiss was his jaw, then a nip at his ear, after that his throat, and then his collar bone. There Greg paused and drew a bit of flesh into his mouth sucking at it hard and scraping his teeth across it.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to talk about it,” he whispered.

Then continued on with his movements slowly drawing further down John’s bare chest.

Greg brought them together, kissing first his cheek, and then his lips. John kissed him back cautiously, not wanting to overdo this, but also finding it very hard to resist him. Then Greg started to kiss his jaw and his throat, and John could do nothing but sit there and let him tell him what was going through his mind without words.

“Then show me,” John said huskily as Greg laved his collarbone and sucked at it. The trail of Greg’s mouth started to go further south, and John gasped a little as he sucked on a nipple, forgetting any sense of control he had in this situation. His fingers tangled with Greg’s as he continued to kiss his torso, and he moaned at the sensations he was giving him. “Greg,” he muttered, wanting to stop him, but at the same time, unable to.

Greg gave a low groan at the feeling of the fingers tangled in his hair. He held onto John’s waist with one hand and reached up to tweak the man’s nipple as he drew closer to his waistline. Greg took the button between his teeth as he flicked it undone before continuing on and dragging the zipper down. As he dragged it down his eyes turned up to meet John’s and a smirk crossed his lips at the look on the younger man’s face. His thumbs hocked on the man’s belt loops of his trousers dragging them down slowly leaving his shorts behind. He used his free hand to rub along John’s straining erection.

John fought the urge to laugh as he realized that their roles were nearly reversed this time around, but the urge was quickly suppressed by his groan as Greg undid the fastenings on his trousers with his teeth and dragged them off of him. He gasped harshly as Greg’s hand started to rub his erection, and he dragged him back up for a searing kiss, needed to give him back everything he was giving him. He bucked up into Greg’s hand, feeling like a bloody teenager again, the friction feeling amazing, as he kissed Greg’s open mouth eagerly.

“Sh, wouldn’t want Mrs. Hudson to hear would you?” he chuckled. “The poor woman would have a heart attack.”

Even as he spoke he stroked harder on John’s cock. Since his younger years Greg had grown quite a bit more confident in bed, not that he hadn’t been before, but he just didn’t feel so unsure of himself. Before he had always been seeking reassurance from the other person that he was doing well. He knew John wanted to be with him. If he didn’t he either would have pushed him off or something of that nature by now.

“She’s..a-out, tonight,” John hissed, as Greg pulled at him. It was Mrs. Hudson’s bridge night, or something. He wasn’t sure of anything at the moment though, as Greg’s fingers were putting him quite out of sorts, but in a good way. “Christ, Greg,” John murmured, bucking up into Greg’s hand, and then he grew a little embarrassed. He slid a hand down his back, and cupped his arse, pulling it towards him for a moment, before bringing his hand down and around to the front of Greg’s trousers and slipped a hand into his shorts to drag his fingers down his cock, grinning at the look on Greg’s face as he did so.

Greg’s smirk melted away as John’s finger slid down the side of his length pleasantly sending shivers through his body. He clutched onto John’s shoulders and gave a slow shuddering breath.

“How could I have forgot this,” he whispered breathily.

Now he was even more desperate to remember, but nothing was triggering it. He had hope maybe if they continued on something would bring it all back and he would suddenly know what to do.

Greg’s words hurt John, made his heart ache in a way it hadn’t ached for far too long, and he wished that he could do something that wold help Greg remember everything. All he could do though, was what he was already doing. He pulled Greg’s face up to his own and kissed him full on the mouth, as he pulled at Greg’s erection, trying to convey everything he wanted to say through that kiss. He remembered the first time they’d done this, how Greg’s face had looked exactly like this, lost in sensation, and he smiled at the memory, as he kissed his old friend hard on the mouth.

Greg pulled John down hard kissing him on the mouth fiercely. He almost felt like there were tears in his eyes as he thought about how much this may be hurting John. John who remembered how it was before…John who had gone twenty years thinking he had forgotten him. 

“I missed you,” he whimpered.

It was like a plea for his memory back. A plea that wouldn’t be granted.

 _Christ, does he even know what he’s done to me?_ thought John at Greg’s words. He pulled back just slightly to look him in the eyes. “I missed you too, Greg. More than you’ll ever know,” he said seriously, with a small smile. Then he pulled him back down to kiss him again, pulling him closer to himself as he moaned slightly. He opened his eyes, and saw a single tear fall down Greg’s cheek, and he realized that although he couldn’t remember, he was trying, and it was hurting him. John brushed the tear from his cheek gently. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against his lips.

Greg’s fingers tightened around John’s hips as he held onto him. He needed John. He needed John to ground him in reality.   
  
“Please don’t say that,” he said desperately.   
  
They both knew it wasn’t anybody’s fault.

 _Even though it’s true?_ John thought, searching for an answer in his eyes. Then he decided that whether or not Greg ever regained those two months, he wanted him now, and John was more than okay with that. He kissed Greg again, hard on the mouth and his hand trailed down Greg’s back to his entrance and John rubbed a finger over it.

Greg whimpered at the unfamiliar feeling of the finger teasing his puckered arse hole.   
  
“I’ve-I’ve never-well I suppose I have-John I don’t remember how,” he whispered nervously.   
  
Despite the slight fear and nervousness in his voice he still wanted to do something for John. He grasped the man’s cock in his free hand and slid his fingers up and then slowly down the length. The pulsing organ was warm in his hand and warmed his whole body sending a heated fever through him. He didn’t know how to deal with it. Greg didn’t know whether or not he was supposed to fuck John or allow John to fuck him. The latter if the two sounded a bit off to think about, but it was John and John was special.

John tried not to flinch when Greg whimpered. He hadn’t been planning on actually fucking him, merely to give him some extra stimulation, but at his words, John wanted to make him feel alright again.

“I’ll guide you. I’ll not hurt you, just… tell me when to stop,” John uttered the familiar words. Well, familiar to him at least.

He moaned a little as Greg worked his cock, and tried to think of the best way to do things. He kissed him again, hard, and then pulled away. “Stay here,” he said, and reluctantly got up off the bed. He went to the kitchen where his medbag was, and dug around in it for the bottle of lube he kept there. He came back and climbed onto the bed, smiling comfortingly at him, kissing him again. “I want you to fuck me, Greg. I’ll help you the whole way,” a sharp inhale of breath as Greg brush his erection again, “And you won’t hurt me. But it might help you,” he said, kissing his mouth gently, lovingly.

“Stop,” he snapped.

Greg’s brow furrowed in frustration as he stared up at John.

“Stop saying that,” he said sternly. “ _Tell me when to stop_ , like you think I’m actually going to tell you to stop. Don’t stop John. Never stop.”

He kissed John hard on the mouth to reaffirm his words as much as he could. When John got up he couldn’t help watching him as he moved about the room. Then John came back to sit next to him and his eyes widened slightly. 

“I..I dunno if I can,” he muttered. 

His cheeks turned red as he looked at John. He wanted to please John, but he didn’t want to mess up.

John started a little when Greg told him to stop. He could tell that he was frustrated, and was a little worried as to the reason why. The Greg said to never stop, and his heart leapt for joy, and he kissed him back with just as much passion, smiling into the kiss.

At Greg’s words however, John faltered. “You can, but you don’t have to,” he said softly, brushing his shoulder. “I just thought maybe you’d want to try. You don’t have to do anything you don’t….” John trailed off. He was doing exactly what Greg had asked him to stop doing.

“What do you think you can do then? What do you want, Greg?”

Greg smirked as John caught himself in what his train of thought. He leaned up and captured the man’s lips.

“John, if you want me to…I can try, but I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it,” he muttered.

His forehead was pressed against John’s and he cupped the man’s cheek stroking it lightly as he spoke. He couldn’t help letting his eyes slide closed as well.

John opened his mouth to Greg’s kiss, bringing a hand up to hold his head.

“I want you. However I can have you, I want you,” he said, certain of that at least. He pressed his head against Greg’s, hiding his emotion-filled eyes behind his eyelids as he spoke.

Greg chuckled and his hand slid down from John’s cheek to the side of his neck pulling him in closer. He pressed their lips together lightly. It was slightly unnerving for him because John’s answer was so open ended. His confidence was a little shaky as his hand slid down John’s side caressing him as he went. He gripped John’s hip pulling him up to him more and slid his hand down around John’s back. There was a slight hesitation before he squeezed lightly at John’s arse running his pointer finger over his hole. His hands shook lightly, but he couldn’t help the nervousness.

John shivered as Greg’s fingers trailed down his body, seeming to find all of his more sensitive spots. He shuddered as his finger brushed his scar, the muscle tissue extra sensitive, and then his hand was gliding down his back and over his arse, squeezing it. He whimpered just a little at the touch of his finger to his entrance. He kissed him lightly, and then a little harder, as reassuring as he could be without words. He could feel his hands shaking. “You’re doing fine,” he murmured against his lips.

  
Greg nodded, but was still slightly hesitant. He kissed John’s neck and slowly released him from his grip and moved so he was situated more behind the man. His hand trailed over John’s back pausing to brush his thumb over the scar -clearly from the gun shot- and watched the muscles contract under his touch. Slowly Greg licked his lips and leaned down to press a wet open mouth kiss to the scar and sucked at it. 

“I’m trying,” he muttered.

Greg slowly pressed his finger into John. He tried not to shake as he did so.

John let him reposition them both, and then he flinched as he felt Greg examine his scar. He still wasn’t used to it, and was ashamed of it even. Too many horrible memories were locked into his flesh with that scar. But he closed his eyes and then he felt Greg kiss the broken torn flesh, and suck at it, and he moaned in pleasure, wincing at the sensations that rushed through him.

Greg pressed into him and John forced himself to not buck up like he desperately wanted to, but merely moaned and pushed up just a little. “Please Greg,” he whimpered, needing more, but not wanting to push him too fast.

 A flush of bright red crossed his cheeks as John moaned. He licked his lips and continued to kiss along his back tasting the light sheen of sweat across his skin. Greg panted weakly as he started to slowly thrust into and then out of him. He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that John was likely craving it and wanted it to go faster. His hesitation was likely agonising for the soldier. 

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Do-on’t,” John muttered, wishing he could see his face to show him that there was no annoyance in his eyes, only a desire to be filled with Greg as soon as possible. And from Greg’s heavy breathing, John could tell he felt the same, though he might’ve been unsure about how to go about it. Greg barely brushed his prostate, and John’s bit back a rather embarrassingly loud moan.

Greg stopped a moment. Was John telling him to stop? He couldn’t tell until the man gave a low moan of obvious pleasure. Carefully he slid in not only one more finger, but two. It was likely a bit of a stretch, but he assumed John was more accustomed to the feeling and what was being done to him than Greg was with doing it. He swallowed as the man’s muscles contracted around him and Greg gave a breathy gasp. God, that felt well he wasn’t sure exactly how to say it, but it was arousing certainly.

Greg slid in a second finger, and John moaned again, feeling himself begin to stretch to accommodate him, and his muscles clenched around his fingers as he moved them inside of him. “ _Christ, Greg,_ ” he muttered as he pushed back against his fingers, and moaned in response to the feelings growing inside of him.

Greg’s breathing increased and his hands gripped John’s hips, and John moaned at the feeling of his hands gripping him so tightly. He’d had bruises in the morning, to be sure.

“Ye-es. Right. Lube,” John said breathily, turning back over onto his stomach to make it easier on Greg. His body ached in anticipation as Greg lined himself up.

He watched as John rolled over and wondered for a brief moment why that was before he realised John thought he was going to shag him like that. Greg grabbed John and rolled him back over.   
  
“I don’t think so,” he purred softly. “I want to see your face. “  
  
He stroked John’s side carefully in an effort to get him to relax as he slowly leaned forward and pressed his tip into John before staring to slide in the rest of the way. Greg stopped about half way though gasping. He’d never shagged a woman who had been so tight and he was particularly hunched over John gripping the sheets and panting.

Greg pulled him back over on his back and told him he wasn’t going to shag him like that. He wanted to see his face. Another memory blasted through John’s mind of the first time they’d shagged properly, how Greg had offered himself up like this, to see John’s face. He smiled up at him, and leaned in to kiss him gently.

He was breathing hard even before Greg started to push into him, but as he did, he bit back a cry of pleasure, feeling himself fill with Greg. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, clutching the the bedsheet tightly as Greg stopped before he was into him fully. “Don’t stop, please,” he whimpered a little, reaching down to spread himself wider for him.

Greg watched John’s face go from a cool smile to a strangled expression of pure ecstasy that pushed him into thrusting all the way into John. He pulled out slowly before pushing back in slightly quicker than before as he began to adjust to the tight squeeze of the muscle walls around him. The amount of stimulation running from his nerves to his brain was exciting. He couldn’t recall a time it had ever been so good.   
  
Just as he was really starting to get into it when he heard foot steps on the stairs. He froze hoping it was just Mrs. Hudson and she would go away, but the there was a key in the lock and more foot steps.   
  
Then,” John!”

_FuckinghellineededhimsomuchJasus_ John’s mind was running a million miles an hour as Greg thrust into him all the way, brushing his prostate, and then he began to thrust into him rhythmatically, and sensations that John had not felt in too long began to pulse through him.

He didn’t hear the footsteps, as lost as he was in the pleasure, and the pending orgasm, but then he heard his name in a loud voice that was definitely not Greg’s.  _“Shit!”_ he muttered, freezing where he was, and covered Greg’s mouth with his hand. “I’ll be down in a minute Sherlock. Just washing up!” he called down the stairs. He desperately tried to think if they’d left anything incriminating in the living room, clothes, briefcases, anything. He kept his hand over Greg’s mouth as he pulled him out of him and then kissed his brow gently. “Stay here,  _please,_ ” he pleaded quietly, as he pulled on a clean pair of shorts and pyjama bottoms and a clean t-shirt, and tried desperately to will down his erection. Then he walked downstairs to see Sherlock on the sofa. “What is it Sherlock? Is everything alright?”

Greg huffed loudly in frustration and pulled on his shorts. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed and curled up in the covers resting his head on the pillow. In the sitting room he could hear their voiced but did his best to ignore them.   
  
In the sitting room Sherlock stood staring at John for a moment eying him idly.   
  
“I’m bored,” he began.”And…you’re  _shagging_  someone?”

Forcing himself to remain calm under Sherlock’s gaze, John felt exposed. He looked away from Sherlock for a brief moment before looking back at him. He no longer questioned Sherlock’s ability to deduce anything, merely admired it. He really was quite brilliant, if a bit naive and inhuman sometimes.

“Yes, well, most people have  _needs_ that need to be met, Sherlock,” he said simply. He didn’t mention who is was that he was shagging, nor if it was a male or female.

“What’m I supposed to do with your boredom? I’m not going to go commit a crime for you to solve.”

Sherlock huffed in annoyance and stared at John. He frowned. John seemed annoyed with him.   
  
“Well fine then,” he muttered and stormed into the other room to work on his experiments. “Tell Lestrade I’m waiting for a case.”  
  
Upstairs Greg was curled up in the blankets waiting. His mind was racing as he waited. He was staring at the ceiling.

John could tell that Sherlock was annoyed. Why was he annoyed? He’d never shown any interest in sex, much less sex with John. When John had asked him about girlfriends, boyfriends, and the like, Sherlock had brushed it off, saying he was married to his work.

He fought the blush that rose in his cheeks when Sherlock mentioned Lestrade.  _He knew, of course he knew, he knows everything, damn him._ “I will, later,” he said, and turned on his heel without another word and stalked back upstairs.

He let himself into the room and sighed, and then turned back to Greg. “Sorry,” he murmured, before turning around to look at his lover. “Really. I… I shouldn’t’ve just left you here. But you know how he is,” he said apologetically, giving him a small smile.

Greg chuckled.   
  
“It’s okay. It’s Sherlock. He’s a large child,” he muttered.   
  
He moved over to the other side of the bed to allow John to lie down with him. He wasn’t sure if John wanted to pick up where they were or if they were going to leave it. His eyes followed John about the room slowly.

John came over to the bed and sat down awkwardly. He didn’t know what Greg was feeling, whether he wanted to continue. He thought about walking over to him and straddling him, but felt that would’ve been too forward. He felt Greg’s eyes on him and decided to lay down next to him.

“Guess that killed it, huh?” he said softly. “The moment I mean. I’m sorry.”

Greg reached out and slowly pulled John closer to him, caressing the man’s cheek an amused grin on his lips.

“Yeah, it kind of did,” he chuckled. “That is Sherlock though…a walking cock block.”

He drew John up to his chest and ran his fingers through the slightly sweaty locks of hair. His breathing had evened out and he was trying to relax. He wasn’t willing to push the situation. Greg was rubbish with relationships and not only did he not know what their’s was, but he was already terribly afraid to muss it up.

John went to him willingly, chuckling a little. “I’m getting that impression, yes,” John said, thinking about his one botched date, because of Sherlock.

He purred a little at the feel of Greg’s fingers in his hair, as he drew idyllic patterns on his bare chest, tracing through his chest hair. He kissed his shoulder gently. As much as he wanted to finish what they’d started, he could feel the hesitation in Greg’s body, and decided to leave it the way it was. “Are you going to stay?” he asked quietly, almost too quietly for anyone but himself to hear. He half hoped that Greg wouldn’t have heard him.

Greg was fairly surprised by John’s invitation and gave a small smile. It would be nice to not sleep alone but he didn’t know if John was actually comfortable with it. 

“If you actually want me to yea,” he muttered. “I could,..it’d put off trying to sneak past Sherlock.”

Jesus, Sherlock…neither of them would hear the end of it.

John felt Greg’s smile and his slight chuckle. John had hated sleeping alone for a very long time.

“Yes. I’d like that. Sherlock usually goes out in the morning to talk with his network. You could leave then, if you needed to,” John murmured in reply. He didn’t like the idea of Sherlock giving them hell in the morning any more than Greg did. He looked up at him. “I missed you,” he said, knowing that it might be too soon to say something like this. He kissed his jawline gently, still tracing lines and circles on Greg’s chest.

Greg chuckled and wrapped an arm loosely around John’s waist.

“I missed you too,” he muttered.

It was true. Of course he hadn’t had the memories to miss like John did, but while John was away he had missed his mate and he had been hurt when John couldn’t come to his wedding. As much as he knew he’d be unhappy with it being Mary. He was sure John would love Grace and Toby if he ever did meet them.

John smiled up and him, and within moments, the two of them were asleep.


	12. The Second Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up and he's not alone - a very pleasant morning.

John awoke early, to find himself pleasantly plastered around a warm body. A warm male body. He looked around and found himself in bed, with Greg Lestrade, a place he thought he’d never be again. He didn’t really move at first, but when he saw the clock, he realised they’d have a few minutes before Sherlock left for his rendezvous. He smiled and brushed his lips to the back of Greg’s neck. “Good morning,” he said quietly, knowing that they’d not ever finished what they’d started, so Greg might very well just leave without a word when he woke up.

Greg groaned and rolled onto his side, but he hit something hard and warm. His eyes shot open and he looked at John who was greeting him.

“Bloody hell I thought I was having a dream there for a second,” he muttered his cheeks a tad flushed.

He really had as well because that’s how vivid the dreams often were.

John chuckled a little at Greg’s reaction, and reached for his cheek to touch the redness of his blush. “Not a dream, lo…. Greg,” he said, kissing his shoulder gently. “Though if you’re that sure I’m a dream, I might have to try and convince you otherwise,” he said, trying his hand at a little seduction.

He put his hand on top of John’s and closed his eyes.

“Certainly real enough,” he muttered in a weak whisper.

Greg had forgotten how it felt to wake up next to someone. It felt good. It felt lovely and he felt loved.

John cozied up to him, pressing several kisses to his shoulder and arm, smiling against his skin. He knew he was being ridiculous, falling for this man again. He was  _married_ for chrissakes. John was turning him against his admitable annoying as hell fiancee.

“Are you worried? About… being here with me?”

“Worried?” Greg inquired.   
  
He frowned.   
  
“Why would I be worried?”  
  
There was clearly something bothering John and he wasn’t quite sure what. He didn’t really understand what it could be. But then again he didn’t really think John wanted Sherlock finding out because as much as it didn’t bother him -Sherlock had already deduced his sexuality- it may bother John. John could just be different now, but John had always valued privacy in a relationship.

“I just meant…. I mean, what about Mary? What about your team? Here I am, fresh back from the war, and already we’re……” he trailed off, not exactly sure where they even stood, relationship status wise. He rested his head on his chest, tracing patterns on him again, lost in thought. He didn’t know where they stood. They’d not actually shagged, so Greg hadn’t done anything wrong, but he still worried for him.

Greg sighed and turned onto his side to face John properly. There was a slightly amused look on his face though he knew John was right anyway. Those weren’t really the things that mattered to him.

“Right now I’m not all that worried about it,” he said. “Because right now I am exceptionally comfortable and do not plan on thinking about Mary or the team -not that they have much say in my personal life anyway- and you should do the same Doctor Watson.”

Greg looked amused by his attitude as he turned to look at him properly. At his words, John gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek gently, and stroked his hand, looking down from him. “I’m comfortable too… Sorry,” he said again, wincing even as he said it. There he went, apologizing again, after Greg had told him not to. It was amazing how their roles had been reversed. He smiled up at him. “I’m sorry I keep apologising.”

“You do have a problem with apologising…shall I call a doctor to get it checked?” he murmured in amusement.

Greg couldn’t help leaning in and kissing John lightly on the cheek.

“Or d’you think you can manage?”

“I don’t think a doctor’ll help, actually,” John said, a slight smile on his face. “But I will try harder. Really I will.”

He leaned in then and pressed his lips to Greg’s. Not hard, but just enough to leave an impression.

Once Sherlock left for whatever it was he was doing Greg rolled out of bed and started to dress. He chewed a bit on his bottom lip as he went to finish with the buttons on his shirt. 

“D’you…I dunno wanna have lunch or something…tomorrow or something?” he muttered.

John watched him sleepily, and a little lustfully, which he hide by half burying his face in his pillow. His eyes raked over the older man’s body - the man may’ve been older, but police work had done him good, for he was still fit and slightly tan. Of course, that could’ve been more obviously, given the grey hair he was sporting. John liked it, made him look different. Older, wiser.

He didn’t start at Greg’s question, merely stretched out his arms and legs, and then relaxed in the bed, smiling up at him. “Lunch would be good.”

> \---

Later in the day Greg found himself sitting at the kitchen table of 221B waiting somewhat impatiently for John to come in. It was exceptionally strange. For him to be just hanging around the flat and it not he for Sherlock or a case, but he didn’t say anything about it. His fingers drummed against his knee. Greg could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him critically.   
  
“Finally moving on from your wife,” Sherlock stated.   
  
Greg but his tongue literally and stared in front of him ignoring the detective as best he could. this was not the time for Sherlock and his rude prying deduction.

John was running late from the hospital, and he hoped that Greg wouldn’t already be at the flat. He had a bad feeling that he would be, and that Sherlock would be there, like he always was, ready to interrogate him.

Back at the flat, Sherlock looked Greg over, trying to see why he’d picked John to move on with. He saw nothing to help him, and although he hated asking ordinary people anything, he wanted to know.

“Why John? He’s a bit outside your normal taste, isn’t he, Lestrade?”

Greg crossed his arms over his chest and set a deep scowl on his usual lax or stressed features. He regarded Sherlock sharply.   
  
“I don’t comment on the fact you have head in your fridge, eyes in your microwave, and I don’t even try to understand the manic inner workings of your mind so I would appreciate if you butted out of my personal life,” he said.   
  
Neither said anything more until John arrived back and Greg got to his feet. The detective’s smile was small and nervous, but he was grateful for John’s protection from Sherlock’s prodding. Usually when Sherlock got to be too much he would just leave, but he’d been waiting for his date. Such a strange notion to be going out on a date. It was a date right? Yes, it had to be. They’d nearly shagged. How could it not be?

John finally got to the flat and hurried in, to see Sherlock and Greg sitting in awkward silence in the living room. He sterned himself, and glared at Sherlock. No doubt the man had said something to annoy Greg, and he hoped he hadn’t been too put off. Sherlock gave him a look back, saying  _I’m innocent in this_ with his eyes. John looked over to Greg. “Sorry I was late, D.I. Lestrade,” he said, giving him a smile. “You ready to go?”

Greg arched his eyebrow as he got to his feet. He followed John out of the flat as he donned his coat. It wasn’t until the door shut that he spoke though.   
  
“When did I switch from Greg to DI Lestrade?” he muttered.  
  
He arched his eyebrow at John as he gave him a side long glance, but choose to say nothing more.

“It was for the benefit of Sherlock. I’ll call you Greg in a few weeks. Or sooner. Just depends. He’s already deduced just about everything else about me. I like to leave him a few mysteries,” he said, smiling at him. Then he ducked into a side alley, and waited for Greg to follow him, before pulling him aside to kiss his mouth, the mouth that had been teasing his mind’s eye all day so far.

When he pulled back, he grinned. “Are you upset?”

Greg sighed against John’s lips and allowed his forehead to fall against John’s.   
  
“I just hate how we all cater to him like a child,” he groaned. “It’s not Sherlock’s business what our relationship is or isn’t.”  
  
He kissed John’s neck hard in an effort to leave a mark. It didn’t make sense why John had pulled him down the alley to kiss him. They were on a date. It shouldn’t matter.

John let Greg lean his forehead against his, and gave him a small smile.

“It’s just… this whole thing is so new. Sherlock’s already muffed two dates I tried to go on, and they weren’t even anything serious. And I feel like… If I let him know about us now, it’ll just be ruined. Besides, he needs me, for whatever reason. I like working with him, and I’d hate to ruin what little friendship we’ve got because I’m in l.. in a relationship with someone he works with as well.”

John didn’t feel that his explanation was enough, but he tried to show Greg through actions, what he couldn’t properly say in words. As Greg started to nip and kiss his neck, marking him, he moaned a little, pulled his hips against his own, and rolled his head back. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide, but he didn’t like seeing other couples snog on the sidewalk. He’d missed Greg, and he wanted to show him just how much. He pulled his lips back up to his own, and kissed him deeply and soundly.

Greg didn’t say anything about John’s words. He disliked how easily Sherlock’s sociopathic tendencies had reeled John in, but it wasn’t worth arguing. The John he knew didn’t listen to anybody. John Watson knew what he was doing.   
  
“Fine,” he muttered.

John could tell he was upset. He pulled away, but only barely, and looked him in the eyes, looking for the answer to why he was upset. Was it jealousy? Anger? Confusion?

“Greg what is it?” he asked finally.

Greg wrapped his arm around John’s shoulder. He gave a weak smile. Sherlock just seemed to invade every aspect of his life. It was infuriating and exhausting.   
  
“Let’s just go.”

John leaned into him for a moment longer, before pulling away from him and the wall. “Yes, let’s. I missed you,” he said, kissing Greg’s cheek. Then he blushed, cause he realized how forward that was. “Sorry,” he apologised, and then winced some more. God, he was just fuckall at this, wasn’t he?

Greg took John’s hand and arched his eyebrow at the younger man.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

What was John all up tight about really? If he was uncomfortable Greg was certainly the type to make it know.

John squeezed his hand, and smiled at him. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter now,” he said, entwining his fingers with Greg’s. “Where did you want to eat?”

Greg shrugged.

“I don’t really mind where,” he said. “Is there somewhere you’d like to go?”

He squeezed John’s hand a little bit.

John thought for a moment…. Angelo’s was out of the question, cause Angelo knew him and Sherlock. He didn’t know of too many other places in the area yet, other than takeaway.

“How about that Italian place?” he asked, the name leaving him for a moment. Then he remembered. “Anacapri? Over on Dorset?” he said, squeezing his hand back. He really wasn’t even that hungry, and would’ve rather gone back to 221b or Greg’s place to shag him senseless. He’d been thinking on and off about it the whole morning.

Greg shrugged.

“I’m not really all that picky with food these days. So whatever you want is fine,” he said.

Greg chewed idly at his bottom lip. He had been thinking a lot about the previous day, not just  _being_  with John and all that, but what it all meant.

john nodded and they started walking hand in hand. John felt out of place. He’d not walked in public with a man like this since Greg all those years again. Nothing had changed - except they were both older, and there was a new tension between them, which John was feeling very strongly eminating from Greg.

They walked for a while, and then John looked over at him. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Greg chuckled as they came to a stop outside the restaurant.

“Not a penny,” he muttered humming idly. “A kiss would be better.”

He leaned in and held John’s hands to his sides kissing him slowly. Greg never had any problem with public displays of affection. He knew in his own way this was him making up for the fact John had pulled him down the alley way to kiss him before.

At Greg’s suggestion, John smiled and let himself be kissed, kissing him back just as slowly. If Greg was okay with this, then he’d do his best to become acclimated to not having to hide. He teased at his lips with his tongue, but let Greg kiss him, let him dominate the situation.

Greg pulled away after a minute or so and grinned down at John. He pressed a feather light kiss to John’s cheek before opening the door for him. It had been a while since he’d been out on a date, but with John he didn’t feel so nervous.   
  
“Get whatever you want okay?” he muttered whispering in John’s ear. His arms were wrapped around John’s waist and his chin rested on his shoulder as they waited to be seated.

John blushed a little. He felt strange not being the dominant one here, but he really didn’t care. Having Greg for himself and interested in him meant more to him that that.

 _I want you,_ thought John, as he leaned back against Greg, feeling more at home than he had in twenty years. The waiter came over to seat them, and John held Greg’s hand all the way over to their table, where he pulled Greg’s seat out for him, and then sat down across from him. “Whatever I want, huh?” he said jokingly, looking over the more expensive items, before looking over the pasta selection.

Greg chuckled and released John’s hand as they sat down at the table.   
  
“Don’t be a prat,” he joked. “You know how much I make. How about you can have whatever I can give you?”   
  
 _Even though it’s not much._  
  
Once they ordered Greg tried a few times to start up some mindless chatter but failed awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, Greg. I’m not gonna order much,” he said, chuckling.

He could hear the double meaning in his words, even if he didn’t mean it. His foot brushed his under the table, before returning to its place under his chair.

They ordered and John ordered the ravioli, and then smiled at Greg, before tentatively brushing his foot again. “So, how’s work going?”

Greg gave a small smile in return and ran his foot over John’s as well. It was a strangely familiar action. He was sure Mary had never played footsies with him nor had anybody before her so he assumed it was a distant memory. It had to be something from being with John. It was comforting to think of it that way.   
  
“Work is as exhausting as ever,” he said evasively.   
  
He didn’t want to tell John about work because if he did then the likelyhood of him going home and talking to Sherlock about it was ridiculously high.

Greg brushed his foot, and John beamed inwardly. He liked this, and he became a little more daring by running his foot up Greg’s shin, and then back down. He could forget the world with Greg. Until his face fell when he spoke about work.

“Well, it is police work. But if it wasn’t exhausting, I don’t think you could call it work,” he said, knowing that Greg was avoiding telling him things.

“Okay. Strangest case you ever had.”

Greg chuckled.

“Well, some work is fun…really I mean I love it,” he said grinning. 

He tapped his fingers idly on the table as he thought. The strangest case he’d ever had. That was easy. The snarky answer would be Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes was a case in himself and sometimes -though he admired and believed in the man- he truly wondered if Sherlock would one day snap. 

“There was this killer who peeled off the finger prints of his victims -while they were still alive- I think it was either a serial killer or an assassin…either way we never did catch that guy,” Greg sadi.

“I can tell,” smiled John. Police work suited Greg, the way delivery boy never did. He seemed more… at home then he had before. And he was good at it from what John had seen in the short time he’d been back.

He shuddered a little as Greg spoke of the horrors of the case. “That’s dreadful. Was that before or after Sherlock?” he asked, curious. It seemed like something Sherlock would’ve enjoyed.

Greg shrugged.

“Oh, it was before Sherlock. Yeah, it was pretty awful,” he said. “I remember it was Anderson’s first major case. He vomited everywhere during the autopsy. It was kind of hilarious.”

He chuckled at the memory.

“Sometimes I miss the times before-” he stopped. “I mean…you know.”

He felt bad. Greg knew they were like  _best friends_  now or whatever.

John chuckled. Even from the few times he’d met with Anderson, he could tell that he and that Donovan woman were complete cunts, who were incompatant and proud. They irked Sherlock, and therefore irked John. He hated visiting crime scenes, until Sherlock told him a few things about the couple, things he could hold over them if they ever got on his nerves.

“Yea…. I know what you mean, I think,” he said slowly. Was Greg…. jealous, or something? He considered the possibility, then threw it out. It didn’t occur to him that that could be a real possibility.

Greg took a rather large bite of his food in an effort to keep his mouth full and not talking. He’d probably just irked John. The detective gave a soft sigh as he swallowed his bite.   
  
“Tell me about everything I missed in the last…twenty years. I want to know,” he said. “You already know what I’ve been up to.”  
  
He nudged John’s foot with his in hopes it would put him at ease.

John ate some of his own food, thinking over the past twenty years. What was there to say? War, fighting, disease, refugees, and … Murray. No, not Murray. He was in his past, and the last John had heard was that he was dead. In other words, there was nothing to be said about that.

He grinned and brushed his foot back against Greg’s. “There’s not really much to say. It’s been a long twenty years. A lot of hot desert, a lot of war wounds, a lot of shooting,” he said, smiling a little, but there was a trace of the trauma in his eyes, and for a moment, he was lost in his own thoughts.

Greg nodded. He could understand that. Though he’d never been in the army he knew from the experiences of friends that it was hell. It made him wonder how John was so normal. Well normal aside from his limp. Still he felt there was something he was missing.   
  
“Really? There was never anyone…not even a girl?” he swallowed.   
  
Greg couldn’t decide if he felt guilty or jealous. He certainly felt guilty for a lot if things between him and John…almost all of them revolving around his forgetting or his jealousy over Sherlock. So he wasn’t sure if he was shooting himself in the foot by asking.

John’s fork halted on the way to his mouth at Greg’s question, and then he finished the bite he was going to take, and chewed it through thoroughly, before thinking for a moment.How could he tell him of the one man who’d seen him through the past 15 years… The one who’d saved his life? Both literally and figuratively.

“There was one. But he doesn’t matter now,” John’s tone implied no more questions on the matter. He knew Greg might get jealous, and he was prepared for that, but Murray was in the past, dead and gone… Greg was his past and present, and that’s what mattered now.

Greg’s stomach twisted, but he knew he had no right. He hadn’t any right to be jealous, but John was his. Considering the information about their past, that he couldn’t remember, in his mind John always had been his. Still if you looked at it objectively, as Greg wasn’t capable of doing. Greg was the bad guy. He was married and still was on a date with a man who he’d unknowingly put through hell for years.   
  
“Oh,” he muttered. “I hope he made you happy.”  
  
Really what he wanted to say was , I hope he was like me, but that didn’t matter.

Greg’s face dropped, and John knew that he was jealous then. Even just from the small mention of someone else. It still was an odd thought to him. They’d not been together long enough back then for any jealousy issues to come up, and neither John nor Greg had been in a relationship long enough for them to feel jealousy about the other. In fact, the only time John could remember jealousy of any kind, was when Greg had brought Mary over, in an attempt to get over John. John had been mad, but he’d also been hurt and jealous.

“He…. We were what we both needed at the time. So yes, I guess he did, in a way.”

_He wasn’t like you at all. I liked him, but I loved you._

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Normally his reaction would be to try and get away from the conversation -like to physically leave- but he didn’t want John thinking he was upset. He nodded. It frustrated him all over again that he couldn’t remember. He wanted to remember being with John.   
  
“If I’d known-” he started, but stopped. John probably didn’t want to hear it anymore. Greg just regretted not knowing so much. It was as if so many things had built up inside him over the years and he finally found the source if his depression he wanted to fix everything. Greg just wanted John to know how much he’d cared. He wouldn’t say love simply for logic reasons, but he did feel very strongly.

John could tell Greg was frustrated. His nervous habits hadn’t changed. He still did that thing with his hands when he was annoyed or frustrated. He grinned inwardly, knowing that.He wished he could just zap his memories back, that no time would be lost for them, but so much had happened since that even if Greg did remember, it’d only make it worse for both of them.

He flinched a little as Greg stopped himself from speaking. All the things unsaid were written on his face. He reached out and took his hand. “Life…. Life happens. And we just have to learn to deal with what’s dealt us. We…” here he motioned between the two of them. “We had a time when it worked, but it just wasn’t meant to be then. And now.. As much as I like this, you’re married, and I.. Shit, Greg, I don’t know,” he said, putting his head in his hands.

Greg nodded as John spoke. Of course John was right. John was always right. It was a frustrating little tidbit about him that Greg loved.

“I-I should go…Toby is probably waiting for me. We…we’re going to hang out tonight- stay in you know?” he muttered awkwardly.

Truth was Toby wasn’t even home. Toby had gone out to a friend’s house and Greg was running away to an empty flat where he’d all but cry himself to sleep -metaphorically of course- simply from frustration. It was all ridiculous. He hated how things had turned out.

Greg said he was going to go, and John’s heart nearly broke right then and there, which was ridiculous. This wasn’t a goodbye forever. He’d see him again…… right? Outside of the Yard…  _I have to. I just got you back. I can’t lose you again._

“Oh. Of course,” he smiled, hiding behind a mask again. He did that a lot. Seemed like things weren’t going to change.

“Well… Let me pay for mine then. Keep your money to get dinner for Toby tonight. I hope to meet him.. someday. I’m sure he’s a great kid.”

Greg nodded. His stomach turned. He shouldn’t let John buy, but by the time he’d decided to stop him the waiter was already taking John’s card. Greg sighed and tapped his foot idly.   
  
“Yeah, Toby’s brilliant,” he muttered. “Not Sherlock, but extremely bright for his age. Wants to be a computer tech…make more money than I could ever dream of.”  
  
His joke was flat and dull seeing as well for one he wasn’t trying and for two it was incredibly true.

Greg seemed irritable, and John knew he’d fucked things up. His stomach turned as the waiter ran his card and brought it back to him. He suddenly wasn’t hungry, and sat back, setting his silverware down.

“Sounds like he’s a joy to have around,” he said warmly, even though his heart was breaking.

He knew Greg wasn’t trying to be funny any longer. John took out his mobile, and then he looked up. “I have to be getting back. I hope you have a good day,” he said, as he got up.

Greg went straight home after all of that. As he’d expected Toby wasn’t home so he went straight to his room and turned on the telly curling up in his blankets and watching telly. They were playing some old Doctor Who reruns but no matter how much he concentrated nothing sank in. He couldn’t not think about John.

Work had become tedious the rest of the day, but John enjoyed any distraction it gave him, anything to think about other than the fucked up mess he’d made of his and Greg’s lunch.

 


	13. A Talk at the Flat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can't stand the tension and goes to Greg's to sort things.

When the day ended, he was going to go back to the flat, but something kept telling him that he needed to see Greg, needed to explain things to him, fix things with him. He sent a text to Sherlock, letting him know he’d be home late and to text him if anything happened that John needed to be aware of. As he pressed send, a cab pulled up and he got inside, giving him the address of Greg’s flat. He hoped it was the right address. He walked up to the flat and knocked hard on the door, loud enough to be heard over any movie that was on. He hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything too serious.  
Greg was just dozing off when he heard a sharp knock on the door. Sherlock wouldn’t have knocked, he’d have broken in, so he wondered who it was. Toby was gone. Grace was still at uni. He doubted it was Mary. She rarely came round. They were married..,theyd been married for 20 years and he saw Sherlock fucking Holmes more than he saw his wife. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Grumbling to himself Greg got to his feet and pulled on a pair of pajamas as he shuffled from his room. He doubted it mattered all that much whether he had his shirt or not so he didn’t bother. He was in a mood so he failed to care very much at the moment. His fingers wrapped around the door knob and he pulled it open.

“Who’s- John?” he asked his brow furrowing.  
Greg opened the door a few minutes later, in only a pair of pyjama bottoms, and John swallowed, almost immediately forgetting everything he had been going to say. He clenched his fist, a nervous habit he’d gotten into, as he looked at him, trying to look at his face, and not his body that was right in front of him. Police work had been good to him, and John appreciated that.

“I came here straight from work. I just wanted to uh… Try and talk things out,” he said, swallowing again, but not coming into the flat. If Greg didn’t want to talk to him, he wasn’t going to force his way into his life.

Greg immediately crossed his arms over his chest and his brow furrowed, but he didn’t move to allow him entrance to the flat.

“What’re you on about?” he asked.

Was he talking about what had happened at lunch? Greg just wanted to forget the issues had ever come up. In fact he had been trying to dull them with Doctor Who for the past few hours.

“Er-there’s no one in,”he muttered and slowly stepped back to allow John entrance to the flat.

Greg went immediately on the defensive, and John didn’t blame him a bit.

“I’m talking about us,” he said, walking into the flat, walking all the way in, before spinning to look at him. He’d lied about Toby…. why? He looked at him for a while, and just before Greg began to complain, he walked over to him quickly and kissed him hard on the lips, not letting him up for air, or letting him say another word. His hands pinned Greg’s hands to his sides, and pressed himself against him.

Greg frowned. He was about to make a fairly snippy comment about John’s just showing up and basically plowing into his flat. Clearly he wanted to be alone otherwise he wouldn’t have lied about having to go home in the first place. Before he could say anything further though he was cut off by a pair of lips pressing hard against his and hands holding his wrists tightly.

John backed Greg up into the wall, shutting the door with his foot, his mouth never leaving Greg’s. He’d waited and worried and fretted all day about his relationship with Greg, and suddenly, he didn’t care whether he was married. He was married to a cunt who’d lied to him and treated him with no respect. Greg deserved far better, and John intended to prove it to him. He kissed him harder, bringing a hand up to hold his face.

For a moment still even as he faintly registered the sound of the door shutting -and therefore realised John was not leaving- he was still surprised. At lunch John had said he was married and however inadvertently prosecuted him for it, but now here was he was in his flat kissing him. The feeling of the slightly younger man’s body pressed up against his was strangely familiar like deja vu. One of John’s hands released his wrist to touch his cheek so Greg hesitantly used the newly freed hand to rest lightly on the small of John’s back drawing them closer. John was a good kisser.

“J-ohn,” he muttered between kisses. “You said…you didn’t seem- I mean…I thought you were mad- a-about Mary.”

He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had to ask.

He could feel the hesitance in Greg’s body, even as he pulled John closer, after John freed his hand. He pulled away just slightly to look him in the eyes.

“I wasn’t mad. Well… not at you. She doesn’t deserve you, Greg. You’re far too brilliant of a man to be stuck in this dead end relationship. I know that.. I know it’s your kids that are making you stay. I can’t believe that it’s because you love her, or loved her, because…. it just wouldn’t be like you,” he said, kissing him again.

“I didn’t come here to insult her. I came here to tell you that I still care about you, and want you, even if it means having to wait longer.”  _I love you…_ Three words that he’d been able to write, able to say to Greg in his mind a million times, but couldn’t find the words to actually say them when he was there in front of him, holding him. He gave him a small smile, and then began to kiss him again, more fervently.

Greg cupped John’s cheek in his hand lightly to the point he was hardly touching the younger man’s skin. God what was he doing? He remembered when he had thought he loved Mary…that point had been just before he found out she was cheating on him. It had broken his heart. Especially because it wasn’t just something that had been going on for a little while by then. He remembered the panic over whether Toby was even his or not and- Greg sighed into John’s kiss trying to calm himself. That stuff didn’t matter. Toby was his son. Just as he had said back then he always would be whether it was blood or not. He was just thankful that it was in blood.

He didn’t really know what they were doing though. All Greg was certain of was that he did not deserve John.

The hesitance John felt in Greg’s body and posture wasn’t giving him much confidence, and he pulled away, not moving away, and just looked at him, searching his eyes for an answer. He’d said something wrong again, he just knew it. Was he wrong in what he’d said? Did Greg actually love……. “ _Fuck,_ ” he said quietly, and backed away, going to sit down on the sofa. If he was wrong, if Greg really loved Mary, he’d just fucked this whole relationship up.

Greg sat down next to John and put his arm around the younger man. This was ridiculous.

“Why is this so complicated?” he muttered.

He turned his head to look down at John. It would be so much easier if he’d never had the accident and John hadn’t had to go to war. Of course they couldn’t change that though.

John didn’t really move, even as Greg put his arm around him.

“Because life moved on, and I wasn’t ready for it to move on,” he said quietly, not wanting to look at him. It was true. John felt that the only reason he’d grown up at all was because of the damn draft. If he hadn’t had to go, he and Greg would’ve parted on better terms. Maybe even with a mutual promise to wait for each other, or something to go on.

He sighed, and looked up at him. “Can we just…. just tonight. Just be together. Please,” he asked quietly, with a look in his eyes that if he’d seen himself, he would’ve hated. It was the saddest puppy-eyed look, and he wasn’t even trying for sympathy. He just wanted a night with his former lover.

Greg sighed and stared at John. He carefully ran his hand slowly over John’s cheek staring into his dark eyes. His lips were dry and he had to lick his lips, but decided to draw it out slowly.

“Yes,” he muttered leaning down and kissing him slowly. “Yes…I-I can do that.”

He ran his hand over John’s chest to cup the side of his face. Greg’s palms and fingers were calloused and over worked from the years he and John had been apart.

John’s eyes never left Greg’s as he pulled him in for a long slow kiss, finally closing as his rough fingers ran over his chest and neck and cheek, sending tingles up and down John’s spine. He put a hand around Greg’s neck, to pull him even closer, so many questions, and apologies, and promises wrapped in that long kiss. His other hand drifted down to his own shirt, and began to unbutton it, seeing no need for him to be wearing one when Greg wasn’t. It came off, with a little assistance from Greg, and then the kisses became more passionate, desperate, at least on John’s end.

Greg kissed John. He kissed him for all the times he couldn’t kiss him in the past and tried to focus that vigor. His hands rested on John’s hips even as the doctor’s own hands explored his body. He couldn’t help smile a little bit at John’s enthusiasm. It had been a long while since he’d had so much enthusiasm and excitement of this brand focused on him. It felt really good.

Greg’s hands on his hips gave John hope, hope that he’d thought he’d lost earlier at lunch. He smiled against his lips, and for a moment, was lost as to what he wanted next. Then his smile spread, and he moved his lips from Greg’s mouth to his neck and then his shoulder, down his torso, hot wet kisses, leaving a trail of marks behind him, as he pushed him back onto his back.

Greg panted, his fingers running over John’s back. As the younger man’s lips attacked his body, he shivered exhaling a deep groan.   
  
“Christ,” he muttered.   
  
He moaned. How had it been so long? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had sex. The prospect of having sex with John was just as arousing as it had been the previous day. Except today it may actually happen.

Greg’s groan caused a shot of arousal to go straight to John’s groin, and he fought the urge to rut against Greg’s leg as he leaned over his lean body, and kissed his way down Greg’s stomach. He admired once again the positive effect police work had had on his mate’s body, and licked a stripe over his navel, as Greg groaned again. He could feel Greg hardening underneath his hand, which had made its way down over his crotch, to help him get harder quicker, stroking him through his pyjama bottoms, before his mouth and nose rubbed him instead. He mouthed him through his pyjama bottoms, eliciting another moan from his old mate, and smiled up at him through half-lidded eyes.

Greg shivered as John’s tongue passed over him and he took a shaky breath. God he loved the feel of someone’s tongue on his skin. At this point he almost didn’t care who was doing this to him. It had been such a long time and he was dying for it. Every second he had to wait between touches filled him more with anticipation. John’s hand rubbing him through his trousers was driving him insane.

“I-I don’t have as much tolerance as you may remember,” he panted.

He wasn’t sure if John heard him though as he just continued on and started using his mouth against Greg’s quickly straining erection. His head fell back and he gave a loud groan.

Greg’s protestations made John chuckle, but he agreeable moved a little quicker, as he mouthed him through the cloth of his pyjamas, before peeling it back slowly. “Fuck… Greg, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, looking up at him as he groaned in pleasure.

He took his length into his mouth, and hummed around his, using teeth and tongue to surround him, and smiled as Greg reacted. His hand found Greg’s and threaded his fingers through his, as he took him in further, licking the underside of his cock and taking him in again.

Greg moaned as John’s mouth wrapped around him. Christ that felt good. He gave a low moan as a considerable bout of pleasure whipped through him.

“Jo-hn,” he groaned. “Fuck.”

His hand found its way to John’s hair and twisted the fingers between the younger male’s locks. He tried to not jerk into his mouth, but Greg’s hips were rocking back and forth of their own accord to meet the bobbing of John’s head.

The low moan that issued from Greg’s mouth only encouraged John, and he moved his mouth, timing it with Greg’s thrusts, having expected him to have little control. The tugging on his hair furthered the younger man’s arousal, and he moaned as he took Greg even deeper into his mouth, licking and sucking him, and humming in pleasure.

Greg writhed under John’s touches. His mind was a light with pleasure and he wasn’t sure where the arousal ended and the sheer excitement began. He was putty. The only real motor control he had of himself was how tightly he was grasping John’s hair because if he hadn’t thought about it he was afraid he might’ve hurt the man. His hips meanwhile seemed to jerk of their own accord into John filling his mouth with his prick.

John grinned at the look of absolute pleasure on his friend’s face, and the tugs on his hair. He could feel his cock hardening just from the pleasure of watching Greg’s reactions. He pulled off of him and smiled at him mischeiviously as he leaned in to kiss him hard on the mouth, letting Greg taste himself, the hot salty taste of his pre cum on John’s lips. “What do you want me to do, Greg?” he asked against his lips, threading a hand through his grey hair, his fingers remembering the places Greg had liked to be touched.

Greg leaned needily into the kiss. He really enjoyed the feeling of being there with John. His tongue flicked over John’s bottom lip to ask for entrance, but that as just before John pulled away.

“Fuck me.”

He nosed John’s cheek.

John opened his mouth eagerly for Greg, letting his tongue battle Greg’s before pulling away, a light shining in his eyes, but he was still worried. Was Greg sure about this?

Swallowing back the fear and doubt, he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth, and wet it, before teasing Greg’s entrance and then he slid in, kissing Greg hard to cut off his own moan at how tight he was. His finger slid in and out of him, and after a little while, he added a second, trying to be gentle.

Greg watched John sucking his fingers for a moment and found his own tongue slide slowly over his bottom lip in anticipation. John’s mouth was so…he wasn’t sure he even knew what word he wanted. He bit his bottom lip as he waited for John to slide his finger into him and gave a soft moan when he did so, but his lips were covered by John’s. His forehead pressed against John’s and his eyes closed tightly.

“A-ah don’t play with me,” he moaned. “Just do it.”

Greg moaned into his mouth, and John had to keep himself from answering that moan. He grinned a little though, knowing that it was because of him that Greg was making those noises. He scissored his fingers inside of him, stretching him, and his middle finger brushed his prostate in the process. “I’m making you ready,” he murmured, as he kissed him again, a little harder.

Greg’s muscles clenched slightly as John spread his fingers and he groaned.

“Please,” he muttered. “More.”

It felt good, but at the same time strange. He knew it was something he had felt before, but could not recall so hopefully it wouldn’t feel so strange.

Greg clenched around him, and John grinned as he thrust into him again. “Well, because you asked nicely,” he murmured, and as he kissed him again, he removed his fingers and positioned himself, and slid in, just a few inches, and he moaned at the tightness. “Fuck, Greg,” he said, and kissed him again harder, as he thrust a little deeper. He didn’t want to go too fast, didn’t want to hurt him.

Greg writhed under. God he loved it. Everything was so much better than any other time he could recall having sex -it was perfect- even the painful stretching felt good.

“Yeah, fuck me,” he moaned. 

He reached out and dragged his nails slowly over the man’s chest. His hands found John’s waist and he pulled him down into a long firey kiss.

Greg gave a low rumbling groan as John slammed inside him. He felt like his body was shaking from the intensity of it, but in reality it likely was not. All he could think about was the friction, the heat, the pleasure, and the breathtaking kiss.

Greg’s groan was like something falling into place, and John pounded into him, lost in the feeling of the pleasure. He could feel Greg shaking, and angled himself to hit Greg’s prostate, knowing where to find it from experience, even with the years between them. He moved to Greg’s neck, allowing him to breathe, giving him the room to make more of those fantastic noises, and he nibbled at Greg’s neck, sucking and licking, creating yet another mark, claiming him for his own.

He tipped his head back to John could get at his neck easier. His hands shook a little bit as he clung to John wherever he could reach. Greg was panting heavily. This was perfect. He couldn’t remember having had better sex in his life.

John moved to the other side of his neck, making another, less vivid mark, but it was there all the same. He lifted one of Greg’s legs over his shoulder to pound into him at a different angle, groaning as he thrust even deeper into him, and moaned Greg’s name as he felt him clench around him. “Fucking hell, Greg.. Christ, you feel good, so good,” he muttered into his shoulder, before looking up at his best mate and lover’s face, watching for the moment when he fell apart.

Not a minute after John lifted his leg to his shoulder Greg lost it. He came. The thick hot strands of semen shot all over his chest and stomach. He was jello then, but John was still going. Greg looked up at him with a lazy stare.

“Come on Johnny,” he said in a half teasing tone.

Greg Lestrade was gorgeous as he came. He always had been, but now there was just so much more bliss, and pure blissful sex in his eyes, and the way he said John’s name.. Well, it only took two more thrusts and the feel of Greg’s body pulling the orgasm out of him for John to lose it, burying himself deep inside of Greg as he came hard, filling Greg with himself, and nipping at his shoulder. “Fuckin’ hell,” he swore, as he tried to catch his breath, not wanting to move yet. He felt more content and whole than he had in a long time, buried like this inside of Greg.

“Wow,” was all he could come up with.

It was pathetic after all they’d been through together and then that. Well it’d been better than wow, but his breath was still escaping him and he was struggling a little to keep himself together. Greg sighed and closed his eyes a moment. He turned onto his side and looked at John.

“W-was it like that before?”

John chuckled a little as Greg muttered his assessment, and pulled out gently, nuzzling the skin between his neck and shoulder as he did so. He pulled away to look Greg in the eyes as he stroked his side.

“Honestly?” he asked, sighing in response. “We’ve only ever done this one or two other times… I left before we could get more serious.” He sighed again. “But yeah. It was like that.”

Blindly Greg reached for John and drew him closer. His arm draped over the doctor’s waist loosely. Greg didn’t know how he was meant to feel right now. To be honest he felt good, great actually, better than he had done in a long time. The hazy after glow still consuming him and keeping away the guilt filled thoughts about having technically cheated. He sighed and bit his bottom lip. 

“I wish I could remember.” 

John curled into Greg’s chest, and breathed a deep sigh glad to have Greg’s arm around him again. He had felt the years melt away with every stroke, and it was just like it had been so many years ago. He could barely remember why they’d thought this was a bad idea at all, but it was all there just the same.

“We’ll make new memories. I wish you could too, mate, but I’m not gonna hold against you… I missed you too much for that.”

Greg shut his eyes -squeezed them closed- and sighed loudly. He was tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep just yet. Why had this all happened? He didn’t understand why the world had played such a cruel joke on him. Though he supposed he didn’t have the worst hand. It could have been worse.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I missed you too.”

He knew he hadn’t missed John the same as the doctor had missed him, but he had missed him nonetheless.

John could hear the irritation in his sigh, and kissed his chest lightly, tracing light patterns on his arm, trailing goosebumps wherever he went. “Hey… You could’ve died.. I’d rather have you like this, than not have you at all,” he murmured, looking up at him.

It really was true. Even if Greg didn’t remember him at all, much least what their relationship had been, he would’ve rather had him alive.

Greg closed his eyes. The last time he had shared this bed with anyone had to have been months ago. No maybe a year? Or more? He couldn’t quite recall. It could’ve been a year. Mary hardly ever slept at the house and would likely sleep in the guest room before sharing a bed with him. Was he that repulsive? 

“I guess,” he muttered. 

John could tell Greg was lost in thought and sighed, and sat up, rolling his neck. “D’you need anything?” he asked, acting as if he was going to get up and go somewhere.

Greg tightened his grip on John. He wasn’t letting him go anywhere. Something in his gut twisted a bit and told him that no it was a bad idea to let John leave. The DI rested his cheek ontop of the doctor’s hair.

“I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he murmured. “But one thing that’s definitely changed between now and then is cuddling. I want that after sex.”

John was surprised to feel Greg’s arms tighten around him, but chuckled a little, and settled back onto the sofa, sighing contentedly. “Well, I was gonna offer to make you something, but since you’re so settled right now, maybe it’s best not to go anywhere,” he murmured, nuzzling Greg’s chest. He grinned into his skin at the mention of cuddling. That was something that had definitely changed. Greg hadn’t really wanted to cuddle back then. John had always figured it was a man thing, but he’d never minded. He’d always had studies to do anyhow. “I agree. I like being held by him anyhow.”

Greg rested his chin on top of John’s head. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply  before letting out a long breath. His mind was mostly numbed of everything, but one important thing that stuck out in his mind was how good it all was. How easy was it to just lie there with John in silence. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter or to have to listen to mindless chatter. John had never been much of a chatterer anyway. 

“I missed you,” he breathed.

The DI kept his eyes shut. He had no desire to get up any time soon. It was probably nearly mid-night by now and he just wanted to sleep with John.

John too inhaled Greg’s scent, a little spicy, and off colour from working at the Yard, but still Greg. Still the same, though time had changed both of them. He was content, more content than he’d been since the war, and the fact that Greg was holding him, making him so, was the final piece.

“I missed you more than I could say,” he murmured  into his skin, and sighed again, his breathing slow and even.

“I think I know,” he muttered.

Despite the fact he did respond the DI was fighting to stay conscious. He’d like nothing better than to stay curled up there and sleep. Absently he wondered if John would leave once he was asleep -like Mary used to- and his grip tightened momentarily on John as if to check he was still there. Sighing softly he turned his head and hurried his face against John’s shoulder.

John opened his mouth to tell him he couldn’t possibly know,  but decided against it, and nuzzled closer to Greg’s warm body. He grinned into his chest when Greg gripped him closer, and chuckled. “I’m not leaving, Greg… Not unless you want me to,” he said, sneaking an arm around him. His only worry was that either one of Greg’s kids would come in.

Greg sighed relaxing a bit as John snuggled up against him. It was good to be close to him, better than he’d ever thought about. His fingers caressed softly over the smooth skin. He wasn’t sure what part of John he was holding onto but he hardly cared. Slowly he shut his eyes again and rested his cheek on top of John’s head.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” he stated softly. “And I’m not letting go of you.”

“Fine by me, mate,” John murmured against his chest. He tried to let his worry go for now, and sighed and relaxed against him.

 


	14. The Door Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What started as a single night between lovers just got a little more complicated.

John was jogged awake by the distinctive sound of keys in a lock, and he shoved at Greg, trying to wake him up. “Greg… Greg!” he muttered into his ear. HE wasn’t moving, so John threw the blanket from the back of the sofa over Greg, grabbed his clothes, and darted off to the loo, and locked the door behind him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” he muttered, knowing he was trapped.

The loss of heat jerked him back into consciousness and Greg opened his eyes looking around blearily. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to block out the light. When had John left and why? It took him a few moments to get his shit together and wake up properly, but by the time that happened the door was opening and Toby was walking in the door.

“Hey dad,” Toby said. “Erm why are you on the couch?”

“I was…tired,” he said.

“Why didn’t you go to your bed?” Toby asked.

“What are you doing back to early?” Greg asked.

“Mark’s mum had to work and she dropped me off,” Toby said.

Greg said up partly and sighed.

“Dad are you naked?”

“Is that a problem? This is my house,” he huffed a tad frustrated and strode off for his bedroom leaving a confused 14 year old behind.

John heard voices, one of which was young and male, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he realised it must be Greg’s son, Toby… At least, he thought it was Toby. But wasn’t Toby supposed to be out for the night? The voices stopped and a set of footsteps went down the hall and into a room, and John sighed again. Now, if he could just make it to the bedroom without Toby seeing or hearing him….

He tugged on his trousers at least, and then cracked open the bathroom door, and padded over to Greg’s room, and quickly went in, closing the door behind him quickly and quietly. “Now, where were we?” he asked Greg, who was on the bed, still naken.

Greg sat down on the edge of the bed and waited. He listened for Toby to leave the sitting room and go to the kitchen. It was likely John was doing the same from the bathroom so he wasn’t surprised when the doctor crept into his room a minute or so later. He gave a soft chuckle in response.

“Well if I recall I was sleeping next to a handsome army doctor,” Greg teased.

John smirked, trying not to roll his eyes. “Didn’t think walking in on two naked men would make the best first impression on your son, there,” he said, coming over to him, standing between his legs. “Not naked anyways. Maybe if we’d just been watching telly. But seems you’re stuck with me, for a while longer,” he continued, leaning down to kiss Greg gently on the lips, his hands cupping his face.

Greg chuckled and gave a nod of agreement. He was 100% sure Toby would have been rather spooked by that sight. The young teen was still dealing with puberty and that might’ve weirded him out a little. He was grateful John had worked up soon enough to make it to the bathroom.

“Well being naked isn’t required, but if you’d like to be I suggest you lock the door,” Greg teased.

He kissed John back quickly before sliding from his grasp and flopping back into the bed comfortably.

John grinned, and, just in case, he turned and walked to the door to quietly lock the door behind them. Then he turned back to Greg, and walked back to him, sliding onto the bed next to him, to nuzzle at his neck. “Naked or not, I like this,” he said, wrapping an arm around him.

Greg smiled. He did too. He liked being with John. It was like before except they were closer now physically and emotionally it seemed. John’s presence was comforting and stilled the business of his life if only for the time he was around.

“Sherlock won’t wonder where you went?” he asked.

John sighed, and then rolled away a little. “Maybe. But he’s.. he’ll probably be fine if I’m away for one night.” He rubbed his eyes. Somehow, he’d been able to completely forget about Sherlock Holmes, and with that thought, he felt the need to check his mobile, see if he really had missed something. “Besides, you know how he is. Unfortunately, he’s probably figured out everything by now.”

Greg sighed. He grabbed a pillow and put it under his head curling up slightly.  _Sherlock_ , he wanted to roll his eyes.  _How did everything come back to him?_  Greg couldn’t complain because he’d brought him up, but to be fair it was a logical question.

“I don’t think it exactly matters though as it’s hardly his business what we are and aren’t doing with each other,” Greg pointed out.

He pressed a kiss to the side of John’s neck.

“Now, I don’t know about you doctor Watson, but I’m rather tired,” he muttered. “I may have to use you as a pillow.”

He could fell the frustration coming off of Greg, and he sighed, forgetting about his mobile for a moment. “I don’t think he cares what is his business and what isn’t, but you’d probably know that better, knowing him for so long,” John said turning to look at the older man as he kissed his neck. He wasn’t in the habit of talking about other people in bed, but Greg must’ve brought Sherlock up for a reason, that was completely bypassing him at the moment.

He turned to face him completely, grinning a little. “Oh yes, you did work rather hard earlier today, didn’t you?” he teased, running his hand over and down his side, hitting the probably still oversensitive areas.

Greg smiled. He had already closed his eyes and pulled John up close to him. The DI rested his head gently on John’s chest taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly so his body relaxed. Cuddling was good. He enjoyed it. It was silly that he hadn’t before, but he certainly did now. He hated to think how he must’ve been after sex before, but as he couldn’t remember he didn’t know for sure.

“Promise you won’t leave while I’m sleeping?” he asked softly.

That had been the first thing Mary had done. When they were still together -even though by law they were still technically together- she had started sneaking off to sleep in another room once Greg fell asleep.

John sighed, and continued running his hand over the older man’s back, more soothing than teasing now. He’d missed this, the feel of being so close to someone. Whether with talk, or with physical touch, it was what he craved the most in a relationship. Not sex, although that was a decent part of it, but the closeness with another human.

“I promise. I’ll stay as long as I can,” he said, kissing Greg’s brow carefully. “And if… if I have to leave, I’ll wake you up first.”

He sighed again, and adjusted just a little, making them both more comfortable, before he took several deep calming breaths, getting his mind to calm down, and he sent up a small prayer that he would have no nightmares tonight.

Greg was out before John had finished talking. He was nuzzled up against John, his body tucked against the younger man’s. His sleep was peaceful as it could be with his sleep apnea, but he didn’t wake up -to his knowledge- all night long.

In the morning Greg opened his eyes slowly to see John still there. His vision was still blurred from sleep, but the heat next to him, the outline of the muscle, and the man’s form were all unmistakable. Greg didn’t bother lifting his head from the pillow and just watched John sleeping. Everything was so peaceful this morning. It was almost cliché.

John, for once since he’d come back to London, didn’t have a nightmare - or rather, he didn’t have one that woke him up. The gunshots were still there, and the pain in his shoulder still seared through his memory, but it didn’t wake him, though much of the sheet he was under ended up on the floor, and tangled around his legs.

He didn’t fully wake until he felt eyes on him, and when he did, he woke quickly but stayed still where he was, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t notice right away. He went for his gun, but then realised he was naked, and tried to remember why. He peeked through his eyelashes and saw Greg, and swallowed before he smiled awkwardly.

“Morning…”

Greg lay there in bed for a while. He woke up long before John did, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. The soldier laying next to him looked so peaceful, so much more peaceful than he often did when awake. All the frown and worry lines were smoothed and suddenly John looked years younger.

He allowed himself to indulge in reaching out and slowly running his finger tips softly over John’s back. Rough pads of his fingers brushed over the doctor’s scaring. It looked as though it had only healed with in the last month or two. How long had John been home again? He couldn’t recall. Greg’s lips twitched into a slight frown as John twitched away from his touch. He withdrew his hand and took to just staring at the face again. 

Then suddenly John was awake and reaching for what Greg assumed he thought was a gun, but it only took him a moment to realise it wasn’t there. Greg didn’t move as John relaxed and lay back down on the bed.

“Morning,” he replied softly.

John swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. It had been so long since he’d slept without a nightmare, that for a moment, he’d thought he was either in one, or back there, in Afghanistan. But instead, he found himself in some sort of dream, with Greg Lestrade lying next to him in bed like it was the most natural place for him to be - or rather, as John took a look around, for John to be. He didn’t recognise the bedroom, but as he turned to look at Greg, he found it didn’t matter. “I … I didn’t think I’d sleep the whole night through…. Did I hurt you at all?” he asked, a little worried, as he knew that his night terrors could get quite bad, whether he remembered them or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [And for now, that's the end of this fic
> 
> Sadly, the RPer who I was writing this with and I do not talk anymore. I might write some more of it on my own, or I might just leave it here, and you can fill in the rest.
> 
> Thank you, lovely readers.]


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